


The Soldier and The Spy

by MurphyPi



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Aftermath of Torture, Awesome Pepper Potts, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Peggy Carter, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Not the way you think, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, Time Travel? What Time Travel?, Tony Stark Has A Heart, enhanced character, it's not all dark though, slight changes in canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-01-06 19:13:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18394622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurphyPi/pseuds/MurphyPi
Summary: 1943, war is raging across Europe, raining carnage and sorrow down on the lands and their people.Irene Schneider is sick of it and with that a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse begins. What she is unable to anticipate in her careful planning, however, is the blue-eyed soldier and his ability to dismantle all her plans with only one star-crossed encounter.While Irene is torn up between what is expected of her as a spy and her own very human feelings, Bucky has to learn that not everything is painted in black or white.Because in this world, nothing is as it seems.[Captain America:The First Avenger all the way to Endgame]Bucky/OC slow burn, like epic lovestory spanning over decades slowMultiple OCs included in story





	1. 00 - Prologue

**_September 12th, 1943_**  
**_Austria, Kreischberg_**  
**_HYDRA Weapon Facility_**  


The air was heavy with the scent of copper and decay intertwined with engine oil and the moistness of the mold on the walls. The facility was old and the walls were more likely to hold the cold of Austria in, instead of protecting from it, therefore it was always a bit colder than comfortable, especially during the crisp autumn they experienced this year. The screeching noises from the large halls, where the prisoners worked on the weapons, almost drowned out the hard click of her heels on concrete.  
Slender, toned legs; a flowing skirt that stopped an inch beneath her knees; an equally brown blouse tucked in; honey-blond hair pinned up and full lips painted a sinful, deep red. She was a sight for sore eyes, especially for the homesick soldiers, many of which were either young and horny or missed their wife just a tad too much to care about who they called after. The woman had an air of no-nonsense and quiet confidence about her, reminding of a predator patiently awaiting for the lethal strike, all coiled muscles and sharp eyes. 

It had taken all but one week for the whole facility to learn, that Doctor Irene Schneider could shoot looks colder than a winter blizzard and if one wanted medical attention at one point or another, one should not dare to provoke such a look. The first who did and ended up in medical had his wound sewn together without any pain killers or anaesthetics to numb locally, although the supplies were there. It was a painful and memorable affair, a warning example not to mess with the beautiful doctor. 

Her secure steps led her without failure to Arnim Zola’s make-shift office. A soft rap of her knuckles and she was asked in.  
“ _Guten Abend, Doktor_ (good evening, doctor)”, she said as she entered, the piece of paper, that had somehow found it’s way into her purse during her stay in the nearby village, held tightly in her slender fingers. The stout man looked up from his notes. “ _Ah, Fräulein Schneider_ (Ah, Miss Schneider)”, he greeted and Irene suppressed a twitch of her lips. She had worked hard for her doctor’s degree, certainly not so that presumptuous men could ignore it.  
“ _Wie war Ihr kleiner Ausflug ins Dorf?_ (How was your small trip to the village)”, he asked with a smile on his lips, his eyes shamelessly roaming her figure. Irene shook the feeling that crept down her spine and made her skin crawl.  
“ _Ereignisreich_ (Eventful)”, she said and showed the doctor the paper. “ _Ich muss mit Obergruppenführer Schmidt sprechen._ (I have to talk to Obergruppenführer Schmidt)” Zola handed the piece of paper back and nodded slowly, before he agreed: “ _Das wäre tatsächlich eine gute Idee._ (That would be a good idea, indeed)” He offered up a chair and his personal communication system with a frown on his face. His radio was the only secure one to contact the head of their organisation and with such delicate information, one could not be careful enough. 

“ _Obergruppenführer Schmidt, bitte kommen._ (Obergruppenführer Schmidt, come in please)”, Irene began the radio signal. “ _Obergruppenführer Schmidt, bitte kommen._ (Obergruppenführer Schmidt, come in please)”  
“Zola?” Johann Schmidt’s voice cracked through the radio.  
“ _Irene Schneider hier, Obergruppenführer Schmidt. Es tut mir leid Sie stören zu müssen, aber Sie hatten Recht. Der Feind hat mich um Hilfe gebeten_ (Irene Schneider here, Obergruppenführer Schmidt. I am sorry to bother you, but you were right. The enemy has asked for my help.)”, Irene immediately explained the situation. They had both anticipated this particular request for quite some time now.  
“ _Sehr gut. Ich erwarte regelmäßige Berichterstattung. Zola wird Ihnen das Funkgerät zur Verfügung stellen._ (Very good. I expect regular reports. Zola will provide his radio for that.)”, Schmidt instructed in a sharp tone. Irene’s lips twitched slightly. They had agreed on a plan of action a few months ago, when Irene had joined HYDRA. “ _Natürlich, Obergruppenführer. Ende und aus._ (Of course, Obergruppenführer. Over and out.)”, Irene replied with a nod, that was of course unseen except for Zola, who in all honesty was more interested in how close Irene’s backside was to him, than what she said or did.  
“ _Enttäuschen Sie mich nicht, Doktor Schneider. Ende und aus._ (Do not disappoint me, Doctor Schneider. Over and out.)”

Irene took a deep breath. Schmidt’s not so subtle threat was as clear as the mountain lakes around. Then she stepped away, brought a fair bit of distance between herself and Zola, before she turned to him. “ _Sie wissen nicht zufällig, wo ich Kruse finden kann?_ (You wouldn’t know where to find Kruse, would you?)”, she asked with a rise of her left eyebrow.  
“ _Vermutlich in den Hallen_ (Probably in the halls)”, he replied and glanced at the watch on his desk, “ _Es ist Zeit für seine Inspektionen._ (It’s time for his inspections.)”  
“ _Danke, Doktor_ (Thank you, doctor)”, Irene thanked with a nod and made her way out of the office.  
“ _Aber natürlich, Fräulein Schneider. Besuchen Sie mich gerne öfters!_ (Of course, Miss Schneider. Do come more often!)”, he half-shouted after her, as she didn’t wait for him to finish whatever he said before leaving. Once the door clicked shut, Irene took another deep breath. Having that sleazy weasel around was more than nauseating. She shook the thought and squared her shoulders. HYDRA had recruited her for two very specific reasons, one of which had just presented itself and it was time to act, Irene was eager to start. She needed to find Kruse, so she could inform him about the latest developments and warn him in advance, that she soon would need transportation to the front.  
A sly grin found it’s way on her lips, as her eyes turned colder yet and any HYDRA officer she met shied away from her with a respectful nod. Finally things started to come together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all, who took a chance with this story. I'm trying something new here and hope I'm not butchering everything with my mediocre knowledge of History. (But fear not, I'm researching the sh* out of WWII right now!) Also something new I'm trying: The story is almost completely plotted, but not yet written. At the moment I've got around 7-8k words and as motivated as I am currently, feedback always helps boosting that motivation further. So if you'd like to drop me a line, it'd be greatly appreciated.
> 
> As you're aware, this is going to be a Bucky/OC story. Just a fair warning: it's going to be a slow burn!
> 
> The idea of a Bucky/OC story rumbled about in my head for some months now in many different variations, but it really only bloomed into a solid thought, once I stumbled over the idea of spies. So this, my dear friends, is the merge of those two ideas.
> 
> I've got one thing to ask of you, though: There will be a whole lot of German and French in this story...at the moment I'm handling the translation as you see above. Please, could you tell me whether that's distracting for the flow of the story? Would you like it more, if the translations were at the end of the chapter?


	2. 01 - A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene arrives at the Allied Forces Camp, but her welcome is not as warm as she would've hoped. Oh well...such is the life of spies.

**_September 20th, 1943_**  
**_Italy, somewhere in Umbria_**  
**_Allied Forces Base Camp_**

Irene had a long, tedious travel behind her. Most of it in a more or less comfortable jeep speeding across bumps and dirt roads. The last 30 miles, though, had been infinitely more difficult. She had needed all her special training in order to cross the front line unseen and unscathed; slipping through the net of soldiers on either side of the front. The constant thundering growl of mortars was not necessarily something she was familiar with and if she was completely honest with herself, she was utterly terrified.

Her body shook, as adrenaline rushed through her. She flung herself to the ground every time she heard the rumble of planes and flinched, pressing her eyes tightly shut and a silent prayer on her lips, when only seconds later the Earth under her shook and trembled as if she wept for all the damage caused and lives lost. But Irene had no time to think about any of that.  
Her path was carefully planned out and she was never actually amidst the shelling, but there was always the possibility of a wayward bomb or of an enthusiastic soldier on look-out shooting at her just because she was moving. The moment the noise of the planes grew farther away, she shot up and ran again. The shelling never stopped, but neither did Irene.

This was a dangerous mission. And in the laser focus of her mind a thought suddenly mingled and grew, as they did in the most strangest of moments. She reached the relative shelter of a small forest, finally leaving the front line behind her.  
_By God, why did I volunteer for this?_ But she knew, that she was the only one, who could pull it off. Months of training had prepared her for this very moment and the few minutes of a devastating visit had steeled her resolve and poured iron into her veins. So she pushed her fear to the back of her mind and concentrated on making her way to her destination. An allied forces base camp about 40 miles behind the front line. 

She was clad in dark, practical clothes; sturdy combat boots, khaki, woollen trousers, a dark, plain shirt and a brown leather jacket. There was no smidge of make-up on her face and her blonde hair was braided and pinned up underneath a cap, so that it would not attract attention in the darkness of the early evening.  
Irene had timed her hike so that it was already dark enough to cloak her, but she truly had wished for a more moonless night. It would have made her endeavour easier. Nonetheless, she made her way slowly but silently and utterly undetected towards the camp. 

The hardest part, next to crossing the front line, was getting into the camp without raising alarm. 

_  
_

Her breath came slightly uneven from exhaustion, as she finally lay low in the bushes surrounding the camp, her sharp, hazel gaze fixed on the guard. It took her a bit, before she had his pattern figured out. A shark-like grin spread her full lips, as she robbed a bit closer to the camp line.  
One guard; no sniper, the terrain wasn’t beneficial for that; most of the people in camp getting whatever sleep they could; the odd pain-filled moan from the medical tent. It was perfect for slipping in. The guard was young, very young, most likely a private, maybe even put on guard duty for a disciplinary reason. He looked the part. 

As he turned around and swept the other side of the bushes, Irene crawled yet a bit nearer. 

“Private!”

A loud voice thundered and for a second, Irene’s heart stopped. She pressed her body and the satchel she carried flat on the ground. A bulky soldier came straddle-legged towards the younger man and sat unceremoniously down onto the ground next to where the private stood.  
“Sergeant Dugan?”, the young soldier asked a bit confused, but saluted as was demanded in face of a higher ranking soldier. “How can I help you?”  
Irene didn’t wait for an answer. Both of them efficiently distracted, she stealthily made her way across the camp line and vanished between the tents. She searched for one of the larger ones, the one dedicated to tactical and strategic planning. It didn’t take her long to find it.

She straightened up, even stretched her sore muscles a bit, as soon as she entered the tent. The gas lamp wasn’t on and the darkness within the tent gave her enough cover. She pulled out a small flashlight from her utility belt and started to look over the maps on the desk.  
There was not necessarily something interesting, so she found herself one of the boxes standing around, holding probably more maps and documents, and sat down on it. Tired from the long march, she propped her heavy boots up on the desk, her long legs perfectly on display although clad in unflattering khakis and leaned tiredly against another stack of boxes. Now she just had to wait. 

“— already late. You think our contact is still coming?”  
A male voice.  
“Certainly. The intel is ironclad.”  
That was a female one.  
And both were headed towards the tent. Irene was usually not one for dramatic entrances, but definitely a woman with a dry sense of humour, therefore she simply remained seated in darkness, not announcing her presence in any way.  
“Are you sure?”  
The male again. The two figures entered the tent and Irene took that as her clue to light up the gas lamp.

_  
_

“Why yes, she can be sure”, she said with a sharp smirk and thoroughly enjoyed the shocked expressions on their faces. What she did not appreciate, however, was the gun pointed at her by the female agent within a split-second. The male soldier stood rigidly next to the woman, his eyes fixed on her and no weapon in hand. Not yet. Irene was clever enough not to underestimate anyone.  
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Agent Carter”, Irene nodded towards the gun and stood slowly from her place. “Colonel Phillips”, she nodded towards the man, “I was informed you two would be my contacts.”  
She slowly pulled a piece of paper from one of the pockets of her jacket. One hand held up to show her innocence. Then she handed the paper to the Colonel, who hastily read over it and then nodded at Agent Carter. Only then loosened the woman up and slipped her gun back into it’s holster.  
“The spy, I presume?”, the Colonel said and gave her a once-over.  
“You would presume right, Sir”, Irene answered, the sly smile still in place on her lips. “Irene Schneider, I’m with the SOE”, she introduced and held out a hand. The others did not take it. An almost invisible frown drew Irene’s eyebrows a tad bit closer together. There was a carefully hidden distaste on both their faces, mixed with not so carefully hidden distrust.  
Of course.  
Irene let her hand fall down to her side. The right corner of her mouth twitched a bit, somewhere on the way either to a sarcastic, bitter grin or a proper frown.

“They did not inform us, that you are German”, Agent Carter pointed out in a sharp tone.  
“Of course not”, Irene said smoothly and sat down again. “Imagine the Nazis or HYDRA intercepted that transmission. I’d be dead in the wink of an eye.” She propped her feet up again, her sore legs in dire need of at least a bit of a stretch. Colonel Phillips didn’t look very happy about that.  
“Why would they kill you specifically?”, Agent Carter asked, still anything else but at ease around the spy. Irene looked up to her, an unreadable expression on her pretty face.  
_It’s always the pretty faces, isn’t it? The most dangerous ones have the faces of angels._ The thought shot through Agent Carter unbidden. 

She had come into contact with many SOE agents over the past months. Most were stationed behind enemy lines to sabotage and stake out possible targets. They were daredevils riding on fire horses, risking their lives without batting an eyelash.  
But then there were also those few, selective SOE agents — the only ones SOE, SIS and SSR actually agreed on —, that belonged to a very, _very_ special breed; they weren’t just behind enemy lines, they infiltrated the German army, they breathed amongst the enemy for as long as they were allowed to breath and gathered crucial information. Those were made of hard iron and hell-fire itself, the stuff legends were made of. 

“Because I’m half British and that makes me dangerous”, Irene explained, her hard eyes fixed on Agent Carter. And for the fleeting moment of a split-second, the brunette wondered how a warm colour such as hazel could be so cold.  
“It makes you the perfect spy”, Agent Carter nodded slowly in understanding, then her own sharp gaze fixed the blonde. “For both sides.” 

Irene narrowed her eyes a bit. The distrust and accusations weren’t anything she hadn’t expected, but it was annoying nonetheless. She was tired and everything hurt.  
Therefore she just grabbed her satchel and wordlessly pulled out a copy of marching orders for the Germans and HYDRA in Italy and a non-developed, tiny roll of film. “These are marching orders given this morning and whatever I could photograph of HYDRA’s scientific plans. Zola is very hush-hush about the more crucial parts, though, whenever I’m in his office. Maybe I could get you some better intel in the future”, Irene said and put everything on the desk in front of her.  
“How?” It was the first time the Colonel spoke, his tone was hard and demanded utter attention. Irene turned her head and with a rather nonchalant shrug, she said: “He likes to look at me. I can exploit that, if absolutely necessary.”  
Neither Colonel Phillips nor Agent Carter asked, what exactly she meant with _exploit_. 

“If you don’t mind”, Irene continued and slowly stood from her somewhat comfortable position, her muscles screaming and aching, “where do I sleep tonight?” Now that question was again met with incredulous expressions. Although the one of the Agent was better hidden than the Colonel ones.  
“Come again?”, the Colonel asked.  
“Well”, Irene answered, not betraying any emotion in her tone, “I just made a 460 miles — of which I walked 70 by the way — journey to get to you. My legs hurt and I’m so tired I could just fall asleep right here and now.”  
“Don’t you have a tight schedule?”, the Colonel asked yet again, his gaze hard and unforgiving. “They surely expect you back from whatever excuse you spun to get here.” Irene scrutinised him for a moment, then a lazy smile appeared on her full lips. It promised danger and adventure all the same. “But Colonel”, Irene said lowly, “that’s the fun part in all of it. They know I’m here.”

_  
_

The reactions were fast and really, Irene should have expected it. Within a second of her confession, she had a gun pointed at her head — again — and cold, dark eyes staring at her from underneath thick, black lashes. The Colonel had his grip on his own sidearm, however not drawn yet.  
“Let’s not loose our heads”, Irene mocked slightly, her hands up in silent surrender. “They just _think_ , that I spy for them on you.”  
“Which you don’t, of course”, now it was Agent Carter’s turn to mock her.  
“Of course not”, Irene answered nonchalantly. “Why would I?” She looked Agent Carter directly in the eyes and allowed her true emotions to be seen for once. Her voice however was hard and unapologetic, as she spoke. “My country is currently on a misguided, cruel rampage across Europe based on the ridiculous believes of one man. That rampage killed my father, my brother and turned my mother into a weeping mass of insanity. I do not care for Nazis and their lunatic believes. But what I do care about is, that I think HYDRA even more dangerous than that. HYDRA is not just a scientific branch of the SS, HYDRA is madness incarnate. If we don’t stop them, whatever the Nazis rained on the world would seem like child’s play compared to what HYDRA would be able and willing to do.”  
Tense silence engulfed them after Irene’s harsh words. The distrust among them was so heavy, it was hard to breath. Irene’s muscles were tensed, ready to snap into action at any given moment. 

“Why should we trust, that this are your true feelings?”, Agent Carter finally spoke, her gun still pressed to Irene’s forehead. The cold metal burnt on her skin.  
“I’m a spy”, Irene said in a way of an answer, her calm voice not betraying the rapid beating of her heart. “You don’t trust spies. No one should. But you can trust my rage.” Blazing hazel bored into hard brown ones. “HYDRA hunted my family for years, before they killed my father and brother. I want to see them burn for that.” For a long moment, the two women just stared at each other. Then Agent Carter lowered her gun and nodded with one sharp jerk of her head. She could work with that.  
“You sleep in my tent”, she ordered as she took a step back and then looked at the Colonel, “if it’s all the same to you, Sir?”  
“Please”, the Colonel said and looked rather tired all of a sudden, “I’d sleep better, if I’d know you have an eye on the spy at all times, Agent.” Irene did not point out, that she had a name. She was too German here and too British there, no point in demanding to be treated kindly. If she had wanted that, then she shouldn’t have agreed to become a spy seventeen months ago, when MI6 had knocked on her door.

“So for how long do we enjoy your presence, Miss Snider”, the Colonel asked completely ignoring, that he butchered her last name in his attempt to pronounce it.  
“Two, three days, maybe four”, Irene answered, a thoughtful expression on her face, as she calculated days in her head. “I do need to gather some intel from you after all.”  
“Excuse you?” The Agent did a double-take and stared hard at the other woman. The Colonel however, being longer in that line of work than the young female agent, had an inkling of what the spy talked about.  
“What do you think would happen, Agent Carter”, Irene said in that hard tone, that was apparently her default setting, “if I got back from an apparent spy mission without any intel at all?” Agent Carter’s eyes lit up with understanding. Then she gave another sharp nod.  
“We should discuss this tomorrow”, the Colonel decided. “We need to make a very careful call on what information you get.” His eyes locked on Irene, who nodded in understanding. It was a hard decision, because it could potentially mean sending good men to death, just so Irene could keep up her cover. “You’re dismissed until tomorrow 0800 right here”, the Colonel ordered.

“Just one second, please”, Irene said and again reached into her satchel. There were some looks of bewilderment, as she pulled a dark-haired wig and a pair of glasses from the bag. “It would be better”, she explained, as she pulled the hat from her head, revealing her honey-blonde hair, “if your men”, she put on the wig and started to quickly pin her now black hair up into victory locks, “wouldn’t be able to identify me.” She put on the glasses and let her hat vanish into her satchel. “Safer for everyone.” “And you think a wig and glasses do that trick?”, the Colonel asked, his voice full of scepticism.  
“Of course not”, Irene answered, but she had raised the pitch of her voice and let her British accent bleed through stronger. “There’s more to undercover work, than just a disguise.” With that she hunched her whole posture a bit and let a hardened, but open expression crawl onto her face.

The Agent and the Colonel watched the transformation in crude fascination. And it was a transformation alright, because instead of a confident, blonde woman with an air of cold superiority around her, that was just so damn typical for a German, they now stood in front of a black-haired girl, obviously uncertain of her own skin and glancing through glasses with a look that has seen horror, but was not yet completely tainted by it.  
“Would you mind terribly, if I’d borrow an uniform from you tomorrow morning, Agent?” It was strange to hear her talk with such naturalness in a voice and accent they knew wasn’t hers. Instead of answering straight away, Agent Carter asked: “If it’s too dangerous to recognise you, why did you allow us to see you?” For a second the Irene they had come to know shined through her mask.  
“Because you distrust me enough as it is”, she answered with a nonchalant shrug, then she returned to her carefully created new persona and extended her hand towards the other woman. “Agent Dorothy Greene, the SSR will send me every now and again to bring you new intel and just generally be a helping hand for you, Agent Carter.” This time, Agent Carter took the offered hand. 

* * *

**_September 21st, 1943_**  
**_Italy, somewhere in Umbria_**  
**_Allied Forces Base Camp_**

It took Peggy a bit until she came aware the next morning. A deep breath in. A lazy stretch of sore limbs. The thought, that it was thankfully a relatively silent day so close behind front lines. Not a given any day. Sometimes they had new soldiers arriving in masses replacements for the fallen and the camp got hectic; other times the sound of the wounded was just too prominent to sleep. This night had been a good one. A silent one. 

“Good morning, Agent Carter.” 

Peggy stilled, her head snapped up and her dark eyes landed on the woman lying in a cot next to her. Sharp hazel eyes stared back at her, framed by soft waves of black hair and a gentle smile. The spy hadn’t taken off the wig, probably wouldn’t for the rest of her stay to prevent anyone from seeing her true hair colour. Peggy frowned inwardly. The smile on her lips seemed genuine, but one could never know. Not when the person across from you was a spy.  
Peggy knew that very fact first hand and that experience gave her an understanding of the other woman at the same time as it made her even more wary than others. She knew, what a job as a spy could entail and usually she wouldn’t be so wary of another spy, especially not of one of the SOE’s daredevils. The job was hard enough as it was without the constant suspicions of allies.  
But Irene Schneider was _German_ …at least partly and that wasn’t something Peggy could just brush aside. The risk of her being a double agent…

“Good morning”, she replied to stop her train of thought and got out of her own cot. With quick hands she straightened the skirt she had slept in and pulled her poplin shirt into the right position on her body. The woman opposite to her had gotten up too and for a second, Peggy wondered. Irene Schneider was a beautiful, tall woman and with her slender figure, high cheekbones and undeniably German features more likely to be arm candy to a rich man than anything else. _Why would someone like her decide to become a spy during war?_  
“Agent Carter?”, Irene asked, the British accent still a bit strange to Peggy’s ears. “There should have been a delivery of clothes labelled under your name from the MI6.”  
“Your disguise, I presume?”, Peggy asked as she made her way to the set of clothes equal to what she herself was wearing, just in a different size. She turned and as she handed them to the other woman, Irene nodded. And without any further hesitation, she began to undress. Peggy turned around to at least imitated some sort of privacy, but kept an eye on her through the small mirror on her desk. It wouldn’t do any good, if the spy had time to hide any weapons on her body they didn’t know of. But when Irene pulled her shirt from her body, Peggy couldn’t hide the small gasp.  
Multiple pale-pink scars criss-crossed her toned back. Straight and thin, once properly healed surely nothing more but a faint, pale web of lines. 

_  
_

“ _Verschärfte Vernehmung_.” The German words rolled easily from Irene’s lips and Peggy turned around sharply, as the spy put on the poplin shirt that was part of her SSR uniform. Irene too turned around and closed the buttons on the shirt. “That’s what the _Gestapo_ calls it”, she explained. Peggy pursed her lips. Torture would be another appropriate word for it, surely. Then again, the Germans weren’t known to be very kind, not even to their own.  
“They needed to be sure, that I didn’t have more work of my father hidden anywhere”, Irene continued in an almost nonchalant air. Peggy nodded and slowly tied her tie, her thoughts with the woman next to her, who seemed so utterly unfazed by the prospect of torture, that it made Peggy even more wary than before. Then suddenly she remembered her training back with the MI5. The brunette could almost hear the voice of her instructor:

_Torture is a possibility in this line of work. You have to expect being tortured at one point or another. If you do, then remember this; they can break your body, but not your spirit. It belongs solely to you. No one can take your belief from you. No one can take the truth from you. So endure. Torture is not the end of the line. You will live and that will be their mistake._

The nonchalant behaviour of Irene made a bit more sense to Peggy. And yet again, she asked herself why a woman like her chose a life like this. 

“Are you present, Agent Carter?”

Peggy blinked. Her gaze refocused on the now fully clothed woman in front of her, uniform impeccable and black hair expertly curled, a soft smile on her lips. Nothing of the cold enigma, that the blonde woman had been in the Colonel’s tent the night before, was left.  
“Of course”, Peggy said and nodded more to herself than for Irene. “I will show you around camp and introduce you to some people you should know. Then I think it best, if we discuss further steps with Colonel Phillips. Is that to your satisfaction, Agent Greene?”  
“Yes, Ma’am”, Irene immediately answered, falling easily in the role of a subordinate. Peggy had to reign in a huff. Anyone who could change personalities as easily as clothes was someone to keep an eye on in her books. And she would make sure, that she kept a close eye on the German spy, least the angel with a pretty face turned out to be the wolf in sheep’s clothing howling for their downfall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is significantly longer than the prologue and I hope you can get a better grasp of the story, Irene as a person and my writing.
> 
> Since I haven't written more than 10k for this story yet, Irene's character is still a bit...unrefined(?) in this chapter. It doesn't help, that she has to be very ambiguous and unremarkable around the majority of others to do her job as a spy, which "forces" me to reveal small pieces of her actual character slowly and not give you a clear idea of her right at the very beginning. So here's to hoping, that you nonetheless do get a first feel for her and maybe even like her.
> 
> I'm currently brushing up on my knowledge about spies in WWII and gosh are there some inspiring people! If interested, read up on Nancy Wake, Virginia Hall and Krystyna Skarbek, just to name a few of the incredible women posing as blueprints for Irene.
> 
> *short explanation: the SOE (Special Operations Executive) was a special branch of the MI6 during WWII dedicated to infiltrate countries occupied by Axis powers. They were known to cause unrest and chaos, which is why the more traditional organisations like the SIS (Secret Intelligence Service), Foreign Offices and - in this case since it's Marvel - also the SSR usually clashed with the agenda of the SOE. Hence why a stealth/infiltration operation as Irene is currently doing, is more along all their agendas.
> 
> On this (long, rambling, unnecessary) note, I leave you guys with a plea for reviews/feedback and the promise, that Bucky will make a short, first appearance next chapter.


	3. 02 - Neither Fish Nor Fowl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colonel Phillips is still not all too happy to have a German within the confines of _his_ camp, but this is war and all is fair in love and war.  
> Thank God for Sergeant Dugan, though, who really can't let a dame sit around all on her own.

**_September 21st, 1943_**  
**_Italy, somewhere in Umbria_**  
**_Allied Forces Base Camp_**

The sound and smell of a war camp was rather distinctive, just like the HYDRA facility back in Austria had a very certain smell. The camp had the undeniable advantage of fresh air, though, and the fact, that it was located in Italy and not Austria. Italy had been graced with a mild autumn so far, much to the relief of the regiment and the nurses and doctors stationed under the command of Colonel Phillips.  
The base camp had one of the more permanent field hospitals included, that dealt mostly with evacuees. For anything worse, they were too far away from the front line and therefore the field hospital about 20 miles behind the trenches and of course the temporary aid stations right at the front line, had to take care of those cases.

The base camp seemed almost serene, the general atmosphere was unusually light and most of the soldiers were on a short R&R from the front lines or recovering from injuries. Even the grass between the tents was still green, regardless of the lingering summer heat and the many feet marching over it. Irene smiled, as she inhaled deeply.  
There was the very tempting smell of coffee lingering in the air, something the facility in Austria had not much use of, but was severely missed by Irene. Maybe she could snag a cup of coffee from somewhere, before they talked to Colonel Phillips. The taste always reminded her of better days.

The mess tent was hard to miss and the few soldiers already sitting there, waiting for the cook to finally hand out bland oatmeal and strong coffee, looked up with curious eyes, as the two women walked through the rows of tables and benches to reach the field kitchen. The cook was a lanky, tall Frenchmen, muttering about how the rations were getting smaller and smaller, given they even got new rations.  
"Sergeant Lacroix", Agent Carter announced their presence. "How is the morning?" The cook looked up and frowned.  
"There iz no potato wizout sprouts. Do zey want me to poison ze lot of you?!", he raged immediately and for a moment Irene was taken back by the temperament the man had, although he looked like he could be taken down by a soft breeze. Irene also noticed how the Agent's lips pressed a bit tighter together. Food shortage was something all fell prey to equally during war. This was no different.

"I see what I can do", Agent Carter said nonetheless, but all three of them knew that it was an empty promise. The cook shrugged with a huff and then turned his large, brown eyes towards Irene.  
"This is Agent Greene", Agent Carter introduced. "She's with me." Apparently that was all the information one would get and Irene was grateful for the strict need-to-know-basis the line of command operated on.  
"Anozer of you?", the cook asked and eyed Irene sceptically. A woman and an agent to some secret agency, Irene could understand the distrust that wafted over the cook. Another few sacks of potatoes would have been preferred to her, that much was certain in his disapproving look.

" _Bonjour, Sergent Lacroix_ (Good morning, Sergeant Lacroix) ", Irene said smoothly, the French falling from her lips almost as easily as English and German, " _C'était un plaisir de vous rencontrer._ (It's a pleasure to meet you.)" The large eyes of the cook grew even larger at her knowledge of his mother tongue and the sceptical look instantly fell from his face.  
" _Enchanté, Madmoiselle!_ ([exclamation of delight], Miss)", he exclaimed with a wide smile. " _Vous parlez français, oui? Magnifique!_ (You speak French, yes? Fantastic!)" Irene reigned in the sly grin. It was always a rewarding idea to be on the cook's good side. Plus she was a tad bit curious about why a Frenchman wore the US uniform. That was surely an interesting story, one of which Irene planned to enquire about later on, if she found the time to chat to the cook.

"I do, but I didn't need it in a long time, so please excuse my poor pronunciation", Irene put her skill in perspective. The cook waved his hand dismissively, as he replied: "Zat iz more zan most of zese sauvages can. Zey can say bonjour and merci and zink zey speak français." He looked positively indignant at those words, but then a very pensive look crept into his eyes. "Would ze madmoiselles care for a cup of coffee?"  
"We'd love that, Sergeant", Agent Carter rejoined the conversation. Irene was sure, that her language skill was stored away securely in a growing file about her within the Agent's mind. The spy didn't care. Not yet, at least. The amount of languages she spoke or her people skills were things she didn't care to hide. Her musings stopped, when a steaming cup of hot, black coffee entered her line of view.  
"Merci", she thanked and took the life-giving liquid from the cook.  
"We see you later, Sergeant", Agent Carter excused them.  
"Oui, Oui", the cook dismissed them almost rudely, "just go. _Madmoiselle Greene, j'espére d'une autre visite sous peu, oui?_ (I expect another visit soon, yes?)" Irene let a genuine smile grace her lips. " _J'essayai._ (I'll try)"

"So", Agent Carter said as they weaved through the maze of tents and Irene could have sworn that there was the hint of a genuine smirk on the other woman's lips, "we don't need to worry about our coffee supply as long as you're here." Irene grinned back, her eyes hiding a glimmer of mirth.  
"No", she replied smoothly. "No, I don't think so."

_  
_

With their coffee cups in their hands and envious glances of soldiers following them — coffee still hadn't been handed out officially — they made their way towards the tent that was reserved for strategic planning.  
Colonel Phillips was already there, talking to another soldier. It was the very same one, who had given Irene an in the night prior. Bulky and tall with a bowler on his head and an impressive moustache. He was dirty and dusty and very obviously not usually in base camp.  
Irene straightened her glasses with her left hand, eager to hide a smug grin. She was still relatively new to the whole spy business, but she had been trained by Germans and they were nothing if not thorough in everything they did. Therefore it was easy for her to keep her mask and the kind look in her eyes.

"Agent Carter. Agent Greene", the Colonel thundered in greeting, a frown etched on his face and by now Irene was certain, that it was permanent. "Sergeant Dugan", he had turned to the other soldier, "meet Agent Greene, she—" He stopped abruptly, uncertain of how to introduce her.  
"Is just a helping hand to Agent Carter here. I'm the gal for errands", Irene continued smoothly. "It's nice to meet you, Sergeant." Sergeant Dugan put on a polite grin and nodded. "Pleasure is all mine, Ma'am."  
"You're dismissed, Sergeant. Finish packing up, you and your boys are heading out tomorrow", the Colonel interrupted whatever polite small talk could have started and the Sergeant saluted before he vanished from the tent, his face set and not really eager to get back to the trenches.

"So", the Colonel eyed Irene, "a helping hand, huh?"  
"Yes, Sir", Irene answered immediately. "Unless you need a translator. Or a doctor." The last sentence was added almost as an afterthought.  
"A doc— How could— How old exactly are you?" There was a certain disbelief in his tone, once he managed to end his thought. Irene had to hold back a shrug, as she replied with a straight face: "24 next month, Sir."  
"What do you damned Germans do?", he muttered underneath his breath at that. "Start school as a toddler?"

"I finished university, Sir. Graduated from UCL Medical School last year", Irene explained and pushed her glasses up her nose. "I didn't work in a hospital yet, so my education is not quite completed by the usual standards, although I qualify as a doctor. MI6 snatched me up, before I could start my medical training at University College Hospital London. Be that as it may, 23 is a perfectly reasonable age to be a practising MD, Sir. Especially during time of war."  
There was an underlying tone of defiance in her voice, as if it wasn't the first time that she had to defend her rather unusual line of work. But then again, it was rather unheard of, that a woman of her age and appearance was a doctor, nurses were definitely more common.  
A sort of camaraderie washed over Peggy Carter. She held the field nurses of the Army Nursing Corps in the highest regards, those women were made of iron and could wrangle grown up men with nothing but a look. Their path was respected by everyone, their profession wasn't frowned upon. They were held on the pedestal they deserved to be on.  
Peggy Carter had chosen a very different path for herself, though. It wasn't often, that she encountered another woman, who was a kindred spirit; one who was willing to defy status quo and do as she pleased. And that woman had to be German for goodness' sake.

"As perfectly demonstrated by you, Sir", Irene continued without loosing her British accent or higher pitched tone, "a female doctor does gain attention, which is exactly what I don't need. Therefore, a helping hand. It would also explain my coming and going at odd hours. I can pose as a middleman bringing in new information."  
"That's not too far from the truth", Peggy observed and Irene just nodded. "Yes", she confirmed, "the best lies are the ones with some truth in them." Peggy nodded. That made sense.  
"You brought us the information", the Colonel cut in, eager to have the spy out of his tent and move this whole unpleasant business along. "Now translate the information." He pointed at the small stack of papers with marching orders, all completely in German. They lay on top of a detailed map of North Italy and Umbria. Irene moved closer to the table and took the paper on top.

"This informs HYDRA to expect one infantry division of the 10th Army come through their Austrian Facility around the 20th and to house and feed them until the 23rd." — She took the next paper and scanned over it. — "The infantry division is ordered to move out at 0800 hours on the 23rd and make their way towards Umbria. They are to meet the remainder of an infantry division stationed near Foligno and move South to meet the Allied Forces and push the front line further South."  
To emphasise her words, Irene pointed at certain landmarks and marked cities on the map. "I don't know how many men are waiting, but you have to expect at least 300 armed forces near Foligno by the first week of October."

The Colonel looked distinctively unpleased by that information.  
"What are HYDRA's plans?", Peggy cut in, her tone stern and her face set in a soft frown. Irene shook her head, as she replied: "I don't know. My transport moved out before they made any plans." She stopped and a pensive look crept onto her face, before her hazel eyes widened a fraction.  
"There was talk floating around, that Johann Schmidt, head of the HYDRA division, would come soon. I don't know what is happening", Irene looked to Peggy and then to the Colonel, "but whatever it is, it's gonna be big, if Schmidt's visiting the facility."

"I don't like the sound of that", the Colonel grumbled. "I'll send the rest of the 107th and 69th out to the front line close to Foligno. Maybe we even can get the 92nd in as well." He turned around abruptly.  
"PRIVATE!"  
An unfortunate soldier walking idly by, probably on his way to get some breakfast, almost jumped out of his own skin, as he hastily turned to the Colonel and saluted.

"Yes, Sir!"

His eyes were wide and a tad bit anxious about being shouted at by the Colonel. Phillips rolled his eyes and ordered: "Get me Sergeant Dugan back here immediately. And then find Lieutenant Colonel Miller and get him here, too." The young soldier immediately ran away.

_  
_

Irene took another sip from her coffee, that had finally cooled down to a temperature that wouldn't burn her lips. The bitter taste slid over her tongue, bringing memories of laughter and sunshine with it. Her mind reeled back from times long gone as if burnt and was with HYDRA a second later. The fact, that Schmidt was visiting their facility…it wouldn't bode well for anyone.  
She needed to get back as soon as possible. And they needed a secure channel to forward information. She couldn't travel for 460 miles every time she had new intel; that was simply impractical. She did not have that tight of a network in Austria, but she knew enough people to make it work.  
Maybe the SOE or SSR had someone close by.

"Any idea what HYDRA is after?", the Colonel suddenly ripped Irene from her thoughts. Her eyes moved towards the battle-worn man and she had to reign in a bitter grin.  
"Weapons. The Super Soldier Serum. World domination", she answered dryly. "Just the usual."  
"The serum?", Peggy asked sharply and this time, Irene couldn't help her lips from twitching slightly into a bitter, oddly ugly grimace on her pretty face.  
"Yes", she said as she slowly turned her head to the brunette, eyes this time not portraying a mask, but showing a frost that could chill glaciers, "everyone wants to recreate the serum. HYDRA. You. The Brits. The Soviets. Erskine found the Holy Grail and now everyone wants it." Her tone was sharp and cutting through the air hard as a whip. Before Peggy could answer, they heard the heavy thudding of boots and only seconds later Sergeant Dugan showed up again with a dark-skinned, weathered man right behind him.

"Sergeant, Lieutenant Colonel", Phillips addressed them before they even had time for a proper greeting. "Change of plans." They both looked rather perplexed by that and Miller even shot a sceptical look at Agent Carter.  
"Agent Greene brought new intel from our spies", Phillips continued without batting an eyelash. "Lieutenant Colonel Miller, I need you and the 92nd in Spoleto. The 107th is currently pushing the front line North around there. They have orders to hold Spoleto and move out by the 29th", he explained and showed what he talked about on the map on the desk.  
"Sergeant Dugan, you get back to your regiment, inform Lieutenant Colonel Nash, that you'll take half of the 69th and take them also to meet up with the 107th and 92nd under command of Lieutenant Colonel Miller."  
The Colonel looked up to be certain that his orders were heard and processed. Then he said in a grave tone: "We got a fresh infantry division of those damned Germans coming down to Foligno approximately by early October. We need to meet them head first in order to hold the line."

That information washed the confusion from the Sergeant's and Lieutenant Colonel's face. Somber determination took it's place and Irene couldn't help but pity and admire that in equal terms.  
Her job was by far not the easiest, truly not, but she at least had some sort of comfort while risking her life. Those men had the certainty of death and the hell that were trenches and foxholes, while the world exploded and fell to pieces around them.  
"You're heading out by 0900 hours tomorrow. Get ready, gentlemen. Miller, I want you back in 5 hours to talk through the operation", with that Phillips dismissed the two men and turned back towards Peggy and Irene. The latter had her expression perfectly schooled into genuine concern. Nothing betrayed her true feelings on the matter.

"Sir?", she asked, though, before Colonel Phillips could even open his mouth again. "Could I hitch a ride with them to the front line?"  
"I thought you had all the time in the world?", the Colonel asked with a scowl and the distrust was prominent in his eyes. He had just given their plans to a spy, who would soon move back deep behind enemy lines. Something he wasn't happy about and if he had thought a bit further, he would have ordered her to leave the tent, before giving his new orders. The chances of her being a double agent were almost a given to him. She was German for goodness' sake. Why he ever even agreed to this was beyond him.

It was Peggy, who answered. "Schmidt", she exclaimed, her eyes narrowed and a knowing look in them, as she scrutinised Irene once more. "You need to get back to find out if and why Schmidt is visiting." It wasn't a question, so Irene didn't bother to answer, instead she only said: "We need a secure line of communication. I can't travel for days just to get intel to you. It might be too late by then."  
"We can put a SSR agent undercover in Kreischberg", Peggy assured, "Equipped with secure radio channels to contact us quickly." Irene nodded, that would be a most appreciated solution.  
"Your escort will be informed", Colonel Phillips rejoined the conversation. "They will get you to the front line." The additional _and keep a close eye on you_ was left unsaid, although all three knew it hang heavily in the air. Irene gave a sharp nod, but her expression betrayed none of her feelings.

"I also need information to bring back to HYDRA, Sir", Irene said, her tone pleasant and with that British accent Peggy came to loath on her. "I need something, that would urge my hasty departure from here." As the Colonel's eyes hardened and the ever-present scowl on his face deepened, Irene knew, that she was in for one hell of a discussion.

* * *

The dusk settled slowly on the base camp in glowing orange and red colours, painting the world in an unnatural golden glow. Irene sat on the ground in front of Agent Carter's tent, as she did for hours now.  
The Colonel had thrown her out of his tent the moment they had finished their gruelling discussions over what information she was allowed to hand over to HYDRA. They had ordered her to sit in front of Agent Carter's tent, which was situated near the centre of the camp and therefore at least one soldier had always an eye on her.  
Irene seethed with cold fury carefully hidden underneath a mask of pleasant contempt and not even the warmth of the setting sun could thaw the ice building around her heart. She hadn't expected to be welcomed with open arms, by God no, but they treated her like a damn prisoner, a time bomb waiting to go off. Hell, HYDRA was giving her more room to breath. She was German, yes, but she was on _their_ side for goodness' sake!

Sometimes in moments like this, Irene wondered, whether or not she had made the right decision…whether the decision to fight for what she thought to be right was actually worth all the torment.  
Her hazel eyes wandered over the buzzing camp. Always busy. Always ready. A tenseness laying over it like thick fog in an autumn's night. It was war and everyone damn well knew that. But there were some small, genuine moments, precious like little snowdrops in early Spring.  
Soldiers relaxing around the camp fire, warming clammy hands and drinking coffee, that resembled tar more than anything else. Gambling with a ruddy deck of cards and the only thing they had left: watch shifts. Laughter tumbling around. Sharing stories. The odd wistful look, when one told them of their dame back home. The friendly teasing that always followed.

_At the end of the day, that's it, isn't it?_ Irene thought. She didn't have much to get back home to anymore.  
Hadn't had in a long time. Not in sixteen months and eighteen days, but who kept count anyway. Those men, however? They still had something waiting for them. They had something better back home than dirt and blood and carnage. They _deserved_ to get back home.

Irene's resolve steeled once more. She felt a minuscule shift go through her whole body.  
They might beat her and torture her, they might treat her like dirt and distrust her openly, but if she just could safe one life with the work she did, she would endure willingly.  
Her mind drifted back to a few hours earlier, back to her musings about soldiers and spies. The soldiers in general had truly a harsher fate than her. Nothing but the sickness and the netherworld that were the trenches, the risk of catching a bullet or the shrapnel of a mortar was significantly higher than making it back safely…or back at all.

But Irene knew, that if she would be discovered as a spy by HYDRA… They would make her suffer beyond humanly possible. Her death would not be a swift, merciful one.

_  
_

"Heya, Agent."

The faintly familiar gruff tone of a man brought Irene harshly out of her dark musings. Her head shot up and she was met with the moustache of one Sergeant Dugan.  
"Sergeant", she greeted and stood up. Her frame only half a head shorter than Dugan's, which apparently surprised him judging by the once-over she got. His moustache twitched in a smile.  
"Heard you'd be riding with us tomorrow", he said, curiosity clear in his tone, but he knew better than to ask. "Care for a cup of joe with the fellas?"  
He jutted his bowler-topped head towards the soldiers sitting around the camp fire, that had been the very subject of her musings only seconds before.  
Irene blinked. She had not anticipated that.

"Can't promise they won't get a bit doll-dizzy, though", Dugan lured further with a playful grin. "But our bark is worse than our bite." He was utterly, disarmingly genuine.  
And in that very moment, Irene's abused soul craved genuine as much as a strong cup of coffee and a warm bed. Guilt dropped ice-cold into her stomach a split-second later, as she realised that Dugan was only genuine, because he didn't know she was of German heritage.  
Sadness washed over her and let the good feeling run cold within her veins. But the genuine smile of the Sergeant remained unwavering, as his warm eyes looked down at her in a silent invitation. With an inaudible sigh, she pushed her thoughts far into the back of her head and locked them away in an ever growing box of things she didn't want to deal with.

"Well then, Sergeant, show me your chuckleheads of friends", Irene agreed with a smile, that was just a tad bit strained — not that the man realised. She straightened out her skirt and pulled her jacket a bit tighter around her slender frame, before she checked her hair subtly. Although they were in the middle of nowhere in a base camp caught in a cruel war, Irene wasn't above being at least a bit vain.  
"Come on, Miss GI", Dugan laughed heartily at his own joke, "we're not all half-bad." And with that he led her towards the fire in the middle of camp, that was surrounded by a handful of soldiers sitting on logs and sporting uniforms with varying levels of mud and blood caked on them. But each and everyone had a cup of coffee in their hands and a tired smile on their faces.

_  
_

"Hi-de-ho, Dum Dum. You bringing us a real dish?"  
Irene had to take a deep breath to not berate the soldier. It did not do well with the more demure personality Dorothy Greene had in contrast to Irene Schneider. But she did lift one perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. He was a lanky kid and for a second Irene wondered, if he even was old enough to enlist.  
"Stop flapping your mouth, Private", Dugan berated the younger soldier, "That's no way to talk to a dame. Now straighten up" — At his words a wave of movement went through the soldiers, as they sat up a bit straighter. — "this is Agent Greene, she's with Agent Carter. She'll be accompanying us for a bit tomorrow."

"Hey fellas", Irene greeted with a gentle smile, that felt utterly foreign on her face. The soldiers budged over a bit to make room for Irene and Dugan to sit down on the logs around the fire. The man next to her, a bulky guy with beady eyes and a deep scowl, gave her an once over.  
"Another GI?", he asked with an unidentifiable tone to his voice. "Government's turning into a damn kitchen with all those dames running around." The mumbled addition cleared things up for Irene. She narrowed her eyes, but was careful not to loose her pleasantness.  
Dugan handed her a mug with coffee and Irene tried even harder to keep her expression pleasant. Coffee and smoke of a fire.  
Her head pounded, as she tried to keep the onslaught of memories at bay. Through the haze and the unnaturally loud beating of her heart, she took a deep breath. It could easily pass off as her being irritated with the soldier next to her. And that reminded Irene, that she was in fact a bit miffed. The emotion was enough to make her focus again.

"I'm only the messenger, no cooking involved", she said directly to him, although she knew all the men were listening. "The information has to get somehow from the spies to Agent Carter, right?"  
"Isn't that a bit dangerous?", the young solider, who had greeted her and Dugan spoke up again. Irene levelled her hazel eyes onto him and kept the coldness from them as much as possible.  
"Of course, Private…?", she trailed off questioningly.  
"Jonathan Juniper, Ma'am, but you can call me Junior." A wide grin split his face, that would have been charming had she been a few years closer to his age.  
"Of course, Private Juniper", Irene repeated in a way to answer his question, "but no one would suspect a dame now, would they?" Her light jab went right to the man next to her, as she shot him a sweet smile. The flickering light of the fire warmed her features and softened her hard gaze, so that the jab wasn't taken too harshly.

_  
_

"That's a whole lot of moxie you got there, doll", a soldier from the far other side of the fire spoke up, an almost playful lilt to his voice and his baby-blue eyes fixed on her. They shone brightly with life even across the distance and the darkening sky. Irene dropped her own gaze underneath the intensity of his whole being, quenching the urge to stare right back and make him look away.  
She shrugged helplessly in an effort to conceal her true character: "Not really. I'm just an over-payed carrier pigeon compared to you fellas."  
She lifted her gaze, there was a definite devil-may-care attitude to the smug smile on his face as he completely misinterpreted her behaviour for shyness. Irene hastily let her eyes travel over the soldiers around her, before she rolled them at his obliviousness.  
"Not even the Germans shoot at innocent women." The soldier with the blue eyes huffed as if he disagreed and let his gaze drop to the cards in his hands, refocusing on his game. 

"No, not at dames like you", the man next to her grumbled — Irene still didn't know his name — before he added darkly: "They do different things to you."  
The air around the fire shifted. Some of the soldiers shuffled uncomfortably, most found a sudden new interest in the fire or their cup of coffee. The implied monstrosities hung heavily over them all. Irene wasn't sure how to react to that.  
"Don't listen to him, Miss GI", Dugan cut in and right through the tension with his booming voice, "Tom's got a letter from home today. His dame isn't waiting around any longer. I wouldn't either, if I had to wait for a face like his."  
Instantly the soldier's — Tom's — dark demeanour and harsh comments made sense to Irene. Being away from home was strenuous for a relationship at best, disastrous most of the time really.  
But Dugan's words did not only clear up Irene's confusion, they also lightened the mood again and washed away the darkness of war with a fresh wave of teasing.

"Sorry to hear that", Irene murmured, not really sure what else to say. "You fellas write home often?", she instead opted to change the topic away from her persona. She herself neither had the possibility to send letters nor anyone really caring to get some. It didn't matter once she was behind enemy lines, anyway, because then she was going dark. No communication allowed whatsoever. Dugan made a so-so gesture to answer her question and some others just shrugged.  
"Depends, sweetheart", Juniper said with a smirk on his youthful face. "Some get letters more often than others. Keeps up the spirit, if you know what I mean."  
He wiggled his eyebrows, before his eyes adopted a mischievous glint as they shot towards the blue-eyed soldier. "Barnes doesn't need those, though. He's got all the nurses wacky about him." 

Barnes' head shot up at those words and a very complacent grin danced on his lips. He shrugged, as if he wanted to say, that he just couldn't help it. Roaring laughter erupted from the men at his nonchalance. Irene had to suppress the sudden urge to roll her eyes yet again, but she couldn't deny the small genuine smile that persistently tucked at the corners of her mouth.

These small moments, these serene islands of hope, those were absolutely worth the risk that came with her job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya fellas. 
> 
> First of all: Sorry for going dark myself. I've had (and still have) some health issues. But I still got two chapters in store, that I haven't posted here.  
> Plus I've added even more space between paragraphs to make it easier to read on mobile devices. Let me know, if it's more comfortable to read now, please?
> 
>  
> 
> It's quite difficult to integrate 1940's slang into a story, so that it feels natural. I hope it doesn't sound too weird?
> 
> The strategic/tactical distribution, etc. of all those regiments I mention in this chapter are made up by me (more or less). The MCU Wiki states, that Dum Dum Dugan was part of the 69th Infantry Regiment, while Gabe Jones was part of the 92nd (a regiment consisting solely of African Americans due to Segregation), Bucky as we know was part of the 107th Infantry Regiment...so I somehow needed those three ready for the Battle of Azzano. I took some creative freedom with this, since e.g. the 92nd only entered combat at the 24th August 1944, but the Battle of Azzano was listed for October 1943. So I excuse any historical inaccuracies, but I do welcome any history buffs to drop me a line.
> 
> I also never served in the army, so my knowledge on that bases itself solely on research, movies and what my brother tells from his military basic training. Again, sorry for any inaccuracies, but I do welcome those who know better to just drop me a line.
> 
> Who was excited to meet Bucky in this one? I know I was! Hope you're not too disappointed, that it was such a short entrance. I told you, this would be a slow burn.


	4. 03 - Run On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter holds a not so heart-felt goodbye from Colonel Phillips for Irene, but at least Peggy Carter seems to make an effort.  
> Another glimpse of Bucky and some musings from Irene, while DumDum talks about his wife.

**_September 22nd, 1943_**  
**_Italy, somewhere in Umbria_**  
**_Allied Forces Base Camp_**  


The next morning rolled around with a light drizzle of rain, letting the temperature of the mild Mediterranean autumn fall slightly beyond 15 degree centigrade. When Irene stepped out of Agent Carter's tent, the soft rain put a multitude of glimmering drops in her hair, too little yet to actually make it wet.  
It was that kind of weather one would prefer to snuggle into a warm coat, head home and drink a steaming cup of hot cocoa.  
The faces of the soldiers told as much, they told of a deep longing and a bitter resignation. War had no space for hot cocoa. Irene didn't care, though.  
The weather made her rather waspish, it reminded her too much of September strolls in Germany, many years before the NSDAP* had come to power.

What she _did_ care for however was the coffee handed to her by Lacroix the very moment she stepped into the mess tent. It was hot and strong and possibly able to wake up the dead. The cook gifted her with a rare wink and a genuine smile. Irene's morning was a tad bit better after that.

In order to get easier across the front line into German territory, Irene had put on the clothes she had worn the day she came into camp; khaki trousers, dark shirt and brown leather jacket. It did nothing to keep the rain away, but it would ensure her safe passage to the HYDRA facility in Austria and for that she didn't mind getting a bit damp.  
The black-haired wig was still firmly pinned onto her head and she would only take it off once she could be sure none of the Allied soldiers would be able to see it. 

Irene couldn't afford one of them getting caught and in some odd circumstance meeting her while she was cosying up to Zola or Schmidt. She wouldn't put it past the hot-headed soldiers to cause a scene and then she would be in trouble.  
Only Zola and Schmidt knew about her excursion to the Allied Forces as a spy. The others at the facility had no idea, to them she was on a research trip to help Zola along with the serum.  
No, it was safer for everyone if no one could recognise her — on either side of the front line. There were already enough names written in the little, black notebook she always carried with her. Names of spies executed. Names of friends.  
Names to help remember them and their legacy within all this horror and chaos. 

_  
_

With her battered cup of coffee and an apple in hand, that was just on this side of too ripe and had more than one brown patch, she made her way through the maze of tents towards the one she knew Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter would be in — even at such an early hour. Some of the soldiers passing her saluted and that left Irene a bit confused. She had no idea to what military rank her rank as an agent of the SOE translated to.  
Apparently at least the Privates had the urge to salute her, even some of the Sergeants did. Maybe they just matched her to Agent Carter's rank amongst them. Irene didn't really care.  
She entered the tent as she took a sip from her steaming, tar-like coffee and felt the slight sting of the burn on her tongue. Phillips and Carter were conversing in hushed tones, both bent over the map to get a closer view.

"Good morning", Irene greeted in a way to announce her appearance. Phillips and Carter straightened sharply and turned towards her. Irene knew, that they weren't pleased with her stealthiness, but again, she didn't care.  
She had a 460 mile journey, which crossed the front line of a raging war mind you, ahead of her and was in no mood to deal with their combined distrust.  
"If I may?", she asked dryly, a slight mocking in her tone and stepped closer without waiting for approval. "I'll accompany your troops until they reach camp 5 miles before the front line, then I'll take a sharp turn and follow a line parallel to it."  
Irene let her finger run over the smooth surface of the map, following the path she intended to take. "Here" — She tapped on an unmarked spot somewhere in the wilderness. — "is a small German camp. I radioed in last night. The commanding officers there know, that I'm coming and will not shoot at me, when I try to cross the front line."

Phillips let his frown deepen, although there was a hidden smugness as he said: "What if the commanding officers are dead? Or we already ambushed the camp? Our forces are pushing the line successfully north as we speak."  
Irene's mouth twitched. They didn't have to make their distaste of her that obvious; one might feel the love. "Well", she said, her tone sharp and her eyes colder than a winter's storm, "then I guess I just have to make work with what I find and hope I don't die trying, don't I?"  
It was the cold detachment, with which she spoke about her own death, that rattled Agent Carter visibly. Irene almost huffed at that. Did they think she was beyond being caught in crossfire of the front lines, just because HYDRA wanted her back?

"We expect a report as soon as possible", Colonel Phillips said, completely brushing over Irene's words. "Preferably intel on Schmidt." Irene simply nodded.  
Her energy was better saved, than spent for arguing with the Colonel. She straightened her posture and did a mock salute. "Colonel. Agent." Irene's full lips were pulled into a sardonic smirk.  
She wasn't in this business to make friends. She was here to save lives come hell and high water. With that thought, she turned on her heel and left the tent. Her shoulders slightly slouched and her whole posture screaming timid.

"Agent Greene!"

Irene furrowed her brows, as she turned around and found Agent Carter following her.  
"Yes?" For a second the two women stared at each other. Cold hazel met hard brown.  
Then Agent Carter nodded curtly. "Have a safe journey."  
Irene wanted to huff at that, but she didn't. It was at least an attempt at offering an olive branch and she wasn't so rude as not to take it. Although she did so with a grain of salt.  
"Will do, Agent Carter." She tipped her forehead in a lack of a hat, mimicking the soldiers, and vanished through the tents towards where the soldiers were already readying the jeeps to get going.  
Although she would definitely take a detour to the mess tent to give Lacroix his battered steel mug back.

* * *

It was a bit later, that Irene arrived at a place where the centre of a bee hive would have been jealous of it's buzzing.  
Soldiers were running around, Sergeants were barking orders and amidst them all stood Sergeant Dugan, leaning against a jeep and rolling a cigarette in his fingers, not caring an ounce that the rain was softly falling down on him. His brows were furrowed in deep concentration, as he licked the paper and stuck it together so that the cigarette was finally finished.

"Morning, Sergeant", Irene greeted as she stepped up to him. He looked up and grinned immediately.  
"Miss GI, you're making a fella real happy in the morning." Irene smiled gently.  
Maybe she wasn't here to make friends, but Sergeant Dugan sure came close to it. Right behind the chatty Frenchmen behind large pots, Lacroix.

"Aren't you quite the sweet-talker", Irene shot back and forced a soft blush on her cheeks. The jesting was all in good sport and Irene was sure she'd miss it. She'd miss the easiness of talking to the soldiers here.  
Probably not the distrust practically oozing from Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter. But the unbending hope and trust of the soldiers. They had seen so much horror already and yet, they still — _still_ — believed in more than bloodshed and death.  
Irene marvelled at that.

Dugan jotted a thumb at the jeep he leaned at. "That's ours", he said. "Get your stuff in, you're riding shotgun." Irene nodded, but didn't disperse of her satchel.  
There was too much delicate information stored within it's depths to let it out of her sight.  
Dugan got his pocket watch out and frowned. "We gotta get rollin'." He mumbled into his beard.

"BARNES!", he suddenly shouted across the place to the very front of the trek of jeep. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Irene dipped her head around Dugan to see what was going on.  
She saw Barnes jumping out of the passenger's side of the first jeep. His feet landed with a heavy thud in the mud.

"I AIN'T DOIN' NOTHING!", he shouted back, his voice a deep thunder of indignation. "IT'S JUNIPER KILLIN' THE ENGINE!" Irene had to cover her chuckle with a cough. Dugan next to her groaned loudly and without shame.  
"THEN _YOU_ DRIVE FOR GOD'S SAKE!", he yelled and then turned to Irene. "Might want to get in, sweetheart." He himself headed towards the other side of the jeep without another word.  
"DON'T FLAP YOUR CAP, DUGAN!"

Barnes' shouting was loud and clear, as Irene climbed into the passenger's side of the jeep next to her.  
"THEN _GET ROLLIN'_ , BARNES!", she heard Dugan shout just before he himself planted his whole body weight on the driver's seat and pulled the door shut behind him. There was a muffled shout of profanities, that was soon drowned out by the roar of engines and they finally left base camp.

* * *

The rumbling of the jeep beneath her and the idle chat with Dugan lulled Irene into a sense of security she usually could not allow herself. But for the moment, she just went with it. They were soon to reach the camp closest to the trenches and there she would take her leave. _Then_ she would need to have her wits together, for now she could allow herself a rare moment of peace.

The path she planned to take was imprinted into her mind, including prominent landmarks and at least four other paths to cross the front line. Irene liked to be prepared for any possibility. She usually tended to over-think things.  
Her mother had told her so in a kind, but slightly exasperated tone. Her father had been proud of that, as she was following his footsteps. And her brother had made fun of her. She vaguely remembered him joking, that she wouldn't go to the restroom without making a plan.  
Irene looked into the forest giving their small convoy cover and let her gaze slowly drift in front of her, once again going over the multiple variables she had worked into her plan to get across the front line and the different routes she could take.  
Maybe her brother had been right.

"So you're a Brit, eh?"

Irene turned her head from the road in front of them — if one could call the dirt track a road — and fixed her hazel eyes on the Sergeant.  
"That I am. Born and raised in Wilmslow close to Manchester", Irene elaborated, although that was only true for her mother, not herself. Again, if there was truth in the lie, it was easier to uphold the lie.  
Irene herself had grown up in South Germany, but she had heard enough stories from her mother, that she could make growing up on British soil believable. Up until she was sixteen years old, she had visited her grandparents often enough to even adopt a drawl in her pronunciation very specific to Manchester.  
It wasn't hard to sell the lie. She certainly had sold harder ones. Why she would return to Germany, for example, without being branded a traitor by British intelligence.  
_That_ had been one of her best performances as of yet.

"And how does a dame like you end up doing a job like this?" Dugan's interest was genuine, that much was clear to Irene. It made lying to him just that much harder. She planted a wistful look on her face, although she allowed herself to show a curl on the corners of her mouth. "Fella's done me wrong."  
Dugan chuckled at that. "Now that's a story I'd like to hear!"  
"Well, Sergeant—"  
"It's Dum Dum, alright?"

Irene stopped, her eyes widening a fraction.  
Then they softened and a small, genuine smile appeared on her full lips. To her utter surprise her smiles tended to be genuine, when she was around the soldiers and their devil-may-care attitude. It had been the same last night at the fire and for a short second it terrified her with chilling clarity. A spy had no business with genuine feelings.  
Then her training kicked in and the ice running through her veins didn't hurt anymore, but grounded her.

"Well, _Dum Dum_ , it's a real short, real simple story", Irene explained with an air of nonchalance, that was maybe a tad too much Irene Schneider and not enough Dorothy Greene. "He said, that all I could do to help win the war was bearing sons. So I dropped the fat-head and got myself into MI5."  
Dum Dum's laughter roared through the driver's cab. Irene tried to find redemption in the fact, that the story _had_ happened and it _had_ pushed her towards wanting to do more.  
The only lie was, that it hadn't brought her to MI5, much less the Special Operations Executive she _actually_ worked for. But there was no lie in the fact, that Jonathan White had been a grade A idiot and she was better off without him.  
Irene wasn't sure, whether he actually ever understood, that she wasn't going to nursing school, but studied to become a doctor herself.

"Sounds like a drip to me", Dum Dum commented once he stopped laughing. "Some men are too chicken to handle a real dame", he continued and glanced at Irene, a large smile appearing underneath his impressive moustache.  
"Did I ever tell you about my dame? She's a real classy lady and can haggle a cleric into buying nappies." Irene chuckled at the pride in his tone.  
"Irish, of course", he said and with that started the tale of his wonderful wife.  
The pride and love oozing from Dum Dum made Irene a bit uncomfortable, but it did not dull the small speck of warmth in her heart, that gleamed as he told one tale after an other.

Irene had to remind herself of her mission every now and then, because spending a bit over two hours in the jeep together and talking about family felt too much like building a friendship. She felt the small, black notebook press into her soft skin from where she hid it in an inside pocket of her blouse.  
Friendships during war time were as fickle as candles in a storm and snuffed out just as fast with one bullet. Therefore, Irene was somewhat glad, that she had left Lacroix far behind in base camp and would leave Dum Dum here to lie in trenches and foxholes.  
It would not do any good to get attached.

_  
_

A distant thunder lay in the air, as they arrived in camp. Although the rain still drizzled down on them, Irene knew, that the rain had nothing to do with the thunder. The low rumbling, that made her stomach churn and her heart rate speed up a bit, came from the front line. She looked around at the relative normalcy.  
The mood was more stern and there was a certain tenseness in the air, that made breathing hard. But nonetheless, there were soldiers sitting on logs drinking coffee and talking in hushed tones, sometimes even with the ghost of a smile on their faces; the field medic washed dark blood stains out of towels as best as he could; and someone bound a whole bunch of letters together with a thread to send home with the next bunch of soldiers heading to the base camp. It was insane. It truly was.

These men had Irene's utmost respect. Not because they fought and died, no, what truly and utterly impressed Irene was their mental strength.  
She had heard some of them screaming in their sleep back at the base camp. The horrors haunted them just as much as her demons plagued herself. And yet, they sat here ready to laugh death in the face.  
Irene didn't know, what they fought for. Was it their families back home? Their homeland? The urge to kill as many Nazis as possible?  
She didn't know. They did their duty and so did she, because she now knew more than ever, what she was fighting for.

"You eat with us, Miss GI?"  
Irene turned her head towards Dum Dum, the foreign, gentle smile painted on her lips.  
"I'm afraid I can't", she said softly, "my contact is waiting for me and I have a tight schedule to meet him."  
It wasn't a lie, not entirely, she just let Dum Dum assume, that her contact was a British or American spy somewhere in the no-man's-land close to the fighting, not Germans waiting for her to cross the front line. Concern seeped into his eyes and his moustache twitched, as he grimaced.

"Well", he then thundered and plastered a smile on his face, that was not completely honest, "take care, we'd like to see you again, sweetheart."  
"Yeah", Irene answered lowly, her hazel eyes fluttered over the busy soldiers all around her.  
She caught glimpses of Barnes, his lips pulled in a wide grin, but his blue eyes stern with determination, as he checked his rifle; Juniper right next to him, a frown on his face and his mouth flapping away with what could only be complaints; even Tom, who looked as grim as ever, showed a gentleness in his touch as he helped a wounded comrade into one of the jeeps.

"I'd like that", Irene finished. _Maybe under different circumstances_ , was left unsaid. She had no doubt, that if she wasn't German and a spy and there was no war raging around them, that she would have found some friends among the long-suffering men.  
But then again, would they truly be the people they were now, if they hadn't gone through everything they had survived already?  
Somehow, Irene doubted that.  
Experience shaped people, it molded them like capable fingers molded wet clay. Experience had made these men hard and yet whimpering like babies in their dreams. Experience had made her cold and distrustful against everyone that wasn't her. Experience had shaped and molded them and Irene wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

She couldn't help herself and let a small, mischievous smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "See you on the flipside, Sergeant." With that she brought a hand leisurely to her forehead and tipped two fingers to it in a lazy salute.  
"Miss GI", Dum Dum said, straightened his back and gave her a sharp salute in return. A last almost genuine smile, a glimmer of something undefinable in hazel eyes and then Irene vanished between the busy soldiers, as if she had never been there in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya fellas, how're you doin'?  
> This is a short, transitional chapter and it kinda felt like a filler, but I hope you see why I didn't delete it.  
> I hope it helps you guys to get a better feel for Irene and I really just like Dum Dum in this one.
> 
> *NSDAP: this was the party (Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei) lead by Adolf Hitler 1921 - 1945 and was the base of the totalitarian Nazi regime. The party was forbidden and dissolved at October 10th 1945. Any followup parties were also forbidden and/or tightly monitored by the Federal Constitutional Court of Germany.
> 
> Welcome to all new subscribers and thanks for the Kudos!  
> You're such a motivation for me, so _a big thanks_ for that!
> 
> Next chapter, we're back in Austria and well...it's not going to be pretty. 
> 
> I hope you liked this one, if you did (or didn't!) I'd appreciate a comment.


	5. 04 - A Concatenation Of Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene is back in Austria to sink ever deeper into the abyss that is HYDRA.  
> The price for peace and freedom is always high and sometimes...sometimes it costs one's salvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refrained from translating the complete dialogue of this chapter into German to maintain a better reading flow.  
> If by some chances, you'd like to have the German translations although there's a lot of German dialogue in this, let me know, then I'll translate it shortly.

**_September 24th, 1943_**  
**_Austria, Kreischberg_**  
**_HYDRA Weapon Facility_**  


Irene’s arrival at the facility in Austria was accompanied with heavy rain and a coldness in the air, that spoke of much later times of the year than September. Autumn had come barging in without a warning and she felt utterly cold in her thin clothes perfect for the Mediterranean climate but decidedly not fitting for Austrian temperatures. The moment she had stepped out of the jeep, a thick coat was placed on her shoulders and she was greeted with smiling faces.  
“ _Schön dich wieder hier zu haben, Irene_ (Nice to have you back, Irene)”, said the soldier missing his coat now. He was taller than her, had black hair and green eyes rounded off with a square jaw and a kind smile. One of the overseeing officers.  
“ _Danke, Kurt_ (Thanks, Kurt)”, Irene replied and pulled the coat a bit tighter around her slender frame. “ _Es ist gut wieder zurück zu sein._ (It’s good to be back again.)” 

Kurt led her into the more habitable area of the facility, where the HYDRA personnel was housed. The dark, sparsely lit corridors welcomed Irene like old friends reminding one of better times long gone. Her room was one of the better ones, right next to where Zola was lodged.  
“ _Zieh dich um und wärm dich auf. Ich hol’ dich in einer halben Stunde wieder ab, ja? Schmidt will dich sehen._ (Change and warm up. I’ll get you in half an hour, okay? Schmidt wants to see you)”, Kurt said with a smile and left Irene after she nodded in agreement. 

__

The door to her room creaked a bit, but she knew that. She had gotten used to it within the first month she had been stationed at this facility. True, HYDRA had recruited her for the possibility of her becoming a valuable asset as a spy, but first and foremost she was to recreate the super soldier serum in tandem with Arnim Zola. No resume necessary, just the knowledge that her father had worked with Abraham Erskine in the early stages of the serum and Irene had enough medical knowledge to make sense of his notes.  
She had bargained to become sort of the medical head of the facility, looking after HYDRA personnel, the participants of Zola’s experiments and — after some convincing — the prisoners. It was her way to atone for the sins she committed. 

Her room was reasonably large, with a small writing desk, a surprisingly comfortable chair, a wardrobe, an adjoining, tiny wet room and a bed with two blankets for warmth. There were no pictures displayed and really no sort of memorabilia at all. Irene neither had anything to display nor wanted to make the room her home. She was respected here and welcomed.  
Sometimes she had to remind herself, that this wasn’t where she belonged. That all the assiduities and comfort she experienced here was built on madness and blood. The lack of anything personal within her own room helped with that notion. Although it was harder after experiencing how distrusting Agent Carter and Colonel Phillips had been. 

It lay in the nature of humans to gravitate towards the easy, the comfortable, where one was loved and respected. Irene had chosen the other way and had to work hard to stay on it and endure it. Whatever it took. No matter the hollowness that slowly seemed to built right behind her solar plexus. 

As she washed the dirt of the travel from her lithe body, she clenched her jaw to stop her thoughts. She felt lonely in that moment. So very, honestly lonely, that it almost hurt physically. Her skin crawled from emotional hurt, not from the cold air meeting her wet skin right before she dried herself.  
_She_ had chosen that path.  
_She_ was doing something not many others could do.  
_She_ helped win the war.

But where had it gotten her?  
Irene pulled up her nylon stockings and fixed them to her garter. Playing nice with the enemy, actually finding something akin to friendship within these walls and it all tasted like ash in her mouth.  
A heartbreaking sigh wanted to make it’s way out between her lips, but Irene suppressed it. She wallowed down her own desperation, as she hid the small, black notebook between her undershirt and the waistband of her skirt. 

She was surrounded by people and yet she felt as if she was all alone against the world.  
Her trip to the other side of the front line had done two very drastic things to her: It had rekindled the fire that had first gotten her into the spy business — she knew for who she fought this silent war, that slowly ate her soul; and it had shown her just how alone she truly was.  
The rejection she had experienced just based on the mere fact, that she had a German father and identified herself as German more than British, had hurt and demoralised her more than she cared to admit. If they would have been a bit friendlier… I they would have acknowledged the danger she willingly put herself in… If they— 

Irene stopped. The sinfully red lipstick halfway towards her lips. It wouldn’t do any good to think about what-ifs.  
Her brows furrowed and she put on the lipstick with a determined movement. She had wanted to become a double agent. Now she had to deal with everything it entailed. There were people, who deserved rescuing.  
Come hell and high water. 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“ _Einen Moment, bitte._ (One moment, please)”  
Irene hurried to put on a bit of mascara and then rushed to her wardrobe to get the vest matching her dark blue skirt and put it over her white blouse to effectively hide the notebook better and add another layer against the cold of the facility. Then she took a deep breath and opened the door. It was time to meet the devil and completely sell her soul.

* * *

Her heels clicked loudly on the ground, as she entered the weapon laboratory for the first time. The small laboratory Zola and her worked in to recreate the super soldier serum was stationed on the other side of the facility, far away from anything she might be able to catch sight of regarding the weapons.  
But now with Schmidt here and requesting her presence, Irene was not sure, if she really wanted to have her curiosity satisfied. She had an air of superiority around her as she entered the laboratory, for she wore her beauty as an armour within the sea of men; the red lipstick her war paint, the meticulous outfit her shield and the perfectly curled, blonde hair her weapon.  
Her heart rate was certainly above anything that would be considered healthy, but her hazel eyes betrayed nothing of her nervousness.  
She was a spy, for God’s sake. And spies didn’t show fear. 

The laboratory was neat and clean. Many men in white lab coats hustled around, eager to please, as they juggled prototypes, weapons and something that looked like glowing, blue vials. The tenseness was thick in the air, as it usually was once a superior had entered. No one wanted to be noticed. No one wanted to make a mistake.  
Because amidst the hustling and bustling lab coats in crisp white, stood a figure in a sharp, black military uniform. 

When Johann Schmidt, amongst HYDRA better known as Red Skull, turned to face Irene, his fierce blue eyes burning into her own, she knew she couldn’t help the colour drain from her face. This man oozed power.  
For a second, it was hard to breath. Then Irene remembered, that she would be the one to destroy his plan of world domination and although it made her heart rate pick up even more, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction wash over her and calm her nerves. 

“ _Doktor Schneider!_ ”, he smiled widely and walked to meet her mid-way, his arms raised in a welcoming gesture. “Back from the enemy. How are you doing, doctor?”  
Irene took the offered hand with a smile. There was no point in trying to intimidate someone like Schmidt with her cold intellect. With him, Irene had to change her way to handle people. He wasn't to be treated like Zola or Kurt. Schmidt was on a whole other plane of existence and she had to act accordingly, if she wanted to stay in his good graces.  
“Better now, that I’m back with my studies, Sir”, she answered and felt cocky enough to wink at her next words. “But the trip was fruitful, so I will not complain too much.” Schmidt laughed at her little shenanigans and put a hand on the small of her back to guide her towards Zola and a very nervous looking, balding man in a white lab coat — obviously the head of the weapon laboratory.  
“You have to tell me later about the information you were able to gather”, Schmidt said, as he lead her past the two men and towards a part of the room, that was guarded by highly armed soldiers. 

“For now, _Doktor Schneider_ , allow me to expand your horizon into intangibility!”

__

He made a grand gesture, which encompassed a blue glowing cube on a stand right in the middle of the armed soldiers, surrounded by multiple scientists. Irene’s lips parted slightly and her eyes widened.  
She had never seen anything more beautiful, more unearthly, more…powerful. 

Unconsciously, she took a step closer. The warmth from Schmidt’s hand vanished from her back. Her hazel eyes didn’t see anything but the cube.  
It was mesmerising. Breathtaking.  
In the currently surprisingly silent part of her mind, where logic resided, Irene knew, that something this powerful was beyond dangerous. But the scientist in her brain was fascinated by the cube and it’s potential. 

“Wha—”

“It was called the jewel of Odin’s treasure room”, Schmidt answered, before Irene could finish her question. “The Tesseract.”  
Irene’s eyes never strayed from the crystalline cube. Blue glowing mist — in lack of a better word to describe it — seemed to swirl within the structure.  
“We found it in Tønsberg”, Schmidt continued. “I knew, that I held the key to our victory within our hands. The key to change the world. The good _Doktor Zola_ here and some of the brightest minds in Germany created a machine to harness the power within the Tesseract.” 

For a second, Irene’s eyes wandered to the construction around the cube. It was a highly complex machine with the Tesseract at its middle. Glowing blue swirled through multiple tubes and containers, until it was contained in glass vials.  
“Now, with the Tesseract able to fuel our weapons and here in this facility”, Schmidt droned on and even if Irene had yet to avert her eyes from the cube, she could hear the manic triumph in his voice, “we are able to take the next step! To free HYDRA from the small-mindedness of the Nazis and show the world, what real power is! _Doktor Schneider_ , will you go this step with us?”

Irene’s head shot up from the blue glow and she turned around fast. Schmidt and Zola were both looking at her; Schmidt with greed and expectation, Zola with a leer and a hint of displeasure. Instinctively, she knew, that her next words would decide whether she would live to see the next day. This was the bargain about her soul. And she would sell.  
“This is a scientific wonder”, she decided to go with the easiest way, the scientific way, of approaching things. “This is an unlimited power source!” Her eyes gleamed with the blue hue, as she half turned her head back towards the Tesseract. “The possibilities are…endless.” 

For a second, she couldn’t bring herself to look away from the blue cube. Her brilliant mind dancing with all the things one could do with unlimited power at their hand. A greed surged through her veins, accompanied with the sharp ice, that came with a startling revelation. Whoever held that much power, held a responsibility she wasn’t sure she would be comfortable with. 

“It would be a shame”, she said slowly and finally managed to turn back towards Schmidt, “to leave that potential untapped.”  
A deeply satisfied glint entered Johann Schmidt’s eyes at her answer. She would live — for the moment.

Irene suddenly felt, as if she desperately needed a shower. Her skin crawled and itched and she felt as if she would never be clean again.  
In the deepest, darkest corners of her mind, she acknowledged, that the feeling didn’t come from Schmidt or that she had to play the villain.  
The thing that truly made her feel nauseous was, that she actually _had_ considered how the power of the Tesseract could be used. She _had_ felt the greed of a scientist rush through her with a vengeance. And for a second — just for a split second — Irene Schneider _knew_ , what it was that motivated Zola to work with blood, sweat and tears for HYDRA.  
And that frightened her to the very core.

* * *

**_September 30th, 1943_**  
**_Austria, Kreischberg_**  
**_HYDRA Weapon Facility_**  


As it was common by now, Irene had taken up a station within the weapon laboratory. Now that she was officially a part of HYDRA and not just a German scientist with handy spy experience, they had merged the two laboratories within the facility. It was easier for Zola that way to work on both, the weapons and the serum.  
Irene had little to do with the weapons or the Tesseract, her whole focus was to be on the super soldier serum. And she made sure to look the part, even if she slightly stalled any breakthrough. Her desk was neatly organised, the blood samples taken from Schmidt meticulously labelled and her notes stacks of paper littered with her tight, precise script. 

Schmidt had been satisfied with the information she had brought back about the SSR and Captain America. The possibility of making a breakthrough with the serum thanks to his own blood, however, had a higher priority. Super soldiers coupled with weapons fuelled by the unlimited power of the Tesseract.  
A gruesome, terrifying and yet remarkable vision, against which not even Captain America would stand a chance. 

Irene had the sleeves of her white blouse rolled up and her hands clad in medical gloves, as she worked on the latest samples she took from Schmidt. The key to recreating the super soldier serum lay within his blood and possibly the early notes of Irene’s late father. Her lips were tightly pressed together, as she prepared a slide with a bit of blood to analyse it with an optical microscope. 

Before she could drop the blood onto the slide, a loud bang and the tell-tale sound of breaking glass, startled her. A sharp pain flashed through her left arm and her whole body twitched instinctively, sending her off her chair and crashing down onto the ground. 

__

In a concatenation of coincidences, that could only be described as orchestrated by fate for as ridiculous as it was, a scientist had tripped and dropped a vial with concentrated Tesseract power. The glass had shattered and dispersed its power in strange, blue-glowing wisps.  
They looked beautiful, with their electric blue glow as they danced through the air; like ribbons of light not unlike many, many miniature polar lights. The wisps varied in sizes from as small as a pinkie to the full length of an arm. It was a sight to behold, one that dropped jaws and widened eyes in unmatched hypnosis.

But as it was with things too beautiful, they usually were also deadly. Whatever the wisps touched, they destroyed.  
Whole desks exploded, limbs disintegrated and in a matchless chain of reaction, even more glass vials shattered to wreak even more havoc.

As fate or coincidence decided, one of those wisps had met Irene’s left forearm. The second the excruciating pain had started and Irene had fallen off her chair in spasms, a drop of Johann Schmidt’s blood had come loose from the dropper and had fallen directly onto the wound caused by the wisp. 

Irene watched in morbid fascination, as the blood stopped any disintegration of her flesh and instead weaved the blue-glowing wisp into her very own system, as the accelerated healing factor of Schmidt’s blood closed the wound without leaving even a red mark behind. 

In the split of a second, Irene realised, that no one could ever know about this.  
Then suddenly the noises of the world came rushing in. A cacophony of screaming and shouting and explosions all around her made her wonder, how she hadn't heard it all before. The whole laboratory was bathed in the eerily blue glow of the deadly wisps.  
She scrambled further under her desk in order to seemingly safe herself from being hit by any leftover Tesseract-wisps rushing through the laboratory. In silence she prayed, that the very fact, that the pain had sent her falling off the chair had provided enough cover. She could always argue, that it was shock and not pain, that had made her drop down to the ground. No one would ever know, what had happened. 

__

It took Zola another three minutes until he had the laboratory under control again and all wisps were contained.  
The damage was immense, with bits of paper, fabric and wood laying everywhere and the sickeningly sweet smell of burnt flesh in the air, for some people had lost an arm or a leg. Others, Irene knew, had befallen a much worse fate. They were now nothing but dust, because the power of the wisps had been enough to completely disintegrate them. 

Her eyes wandered to the inconspicuous patch of skin on her left forearm. Nothing hinted at what had happened, but Irene knew, that this had the potential to alter her whole being. One did not simply mix human DNA with energy of extra-terrestrial power sources and a drop of super soldier serum and expect nothing to happen.  
She had to be sure. Run some tests. Without anyone knowing about it. 

A line burrowed itself deep into her forehead right between her furrowed brows.  
The sour taste of bile flooded her tongue, as her mind reeled with fear, curiosity and possible strategies.

This was going to be _dangerous_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya fellas!
> 
> So this is a short one, but it felt right to make the cut at this point. I promise, the next one will contain _a lot_ of Bucky, 'cause we're reaching the Battle of Azzano within the timeline. Would you guys be interested in a chapter from his POV, btw?
> 
> Ehrm...yeah, so... _that_ happened to Irene. I hope it's not too far-fetched, too out there?  
> I also hope you got to know her inner workings a bit better. In this one, I really tried to show you how Irene's thought process is and what makes her tick.  
> What do you guys think? I'd really appreciate some feedback.
> 
> At the moment, I try to update regularly around Sunday/Monday (UTC+2). My motivation is high for this story, so there's a high chance I can actually keep the schedule.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and/or subscribed! It means a lot to me!
> 
>  
> 
> So read ya fellas in around a week!  
> Murphy


	6. 05 - Soldier Keep On Marching On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and his comrades face the Battle of Azzano and a new monstrosity seemingly coming straight out of a Sci-Fi novel.  
> He is glad, that his family is safe on the other side of the ocean, because his own hell just got so much worse.
> 
> And then there's the Angel of Purgatory everyone warns about. Maybe she would cure his aching body and maltreated lungs?

**_October 2nd, 1943_**  
**_Italy, near Azzano_**  


The fast _rattattatt_ of submachine guns rang through the air, just overcast by the loud _pop_ and then _bang_ of grenade launchers. The earth shook and dirt and debris rained down on them, flying all around as if Judgement Day had come to weigh their souls.  
And as Bucky ran with aching muscles to throw his whole body into the relative safety of a foxhole, he wasn’t sure if his soul was still worthy of heaven. This war was no place for men — only for monsters.

He saw another body land beside him and for a second, he wasn’t sure if his comrade was still alive or not. Too often had he seen the dull, dead eyes of men, who had become friends during long months of trenches and foxholes. But the deep grunt and the grip of a large hand to secure a bowler, told Bucky, that Sergeant Dum Dum Dugan was still with him. 

The Sergeant looked at him, dirt and sweat caking his face and moustache. “There gotta be at least five more companies out there!” The fire still eating away at one of their jeeps, illuminated both their faces partially. Bucky couldn’t find a coherent thought in himself. They’ve been in constant combat for five days now. Everything felt as if he wasn’t there anymore. It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real.  
But his body knew what to do. It ran on auto-pilot, even if his eyes were fixed on the other side of the little pit of dirt they found cover in and his fingers curled too stiffly around his sniper rifle to be able to pull the trigger. 

“Radio B-Company, tell ‘em we need cover!”, he heard himself scream over the noise of explosions around them. Bucky wasn’t even sure, if anyone with a radio heard him. 

Movement caught his eyes and he jerked his head around. Gabe Jones flung himself next to Bucky into what little cover the hole provided.  
“That might be tough”, Gabe said and showed his destroyed, still smoking radio.

For a surreal second, Bucky wanted to laugh out loud. He could appreciate Gabe’s humour even in such a situation.  
But then desperation crawled over his skin and made breathing harder than it already was with the battle arou— 

“BUCKY! Behind you!”

Bucky swirled around without thought, his rifle ready to shoot the moment he had turned. His blue eyes found the enemy with a precision only routine and the raw fear for one’s life could enable. A small twitch of muscles and the German soldier trying to get them was dead.

A grenade hit close by.  
The loud explosion rang in their ears, as they ducked instinctively.  
A heart beat later, the heat wafted over them. And with it came the smell of burned flesh and rubber. By now, they were used to the smell. None of them emptied their stomachs anymore. None of them even bat an eyelash at the lives lost. 

Once he deemed it secure enough, Bucky pulled his body up and looked over the edge of their foxhole. Within the smoke hanging thick over the scenery and the darkness of the night, he could faintly see figures approaching.  
“Here they come!”, he yelled to alert his comrades, while he himself got into position. His knees had stopped to hurt a long time ago, as he flung himself harshly on them and planted his arms and rifle securely on the edge of the foxhole. 

Dum Dum Dugan on the other side of the foxhole put his bowler back onto his head, after he had lost it when he had ducked away from the explosion.  
“I hate these guys”, he snarled and ran next to Bucky with few large steps, to help him hold their position. 

“ _Vorwärts!_ ”

The shout of the Germans rang over the _pop pop pop_ of their rifles. Bucky didn’t care. Didn’t even hear it anymore. All he was focused on was the minuscule fraction of the world his scope showed him. Everything was narrowed down to those few centimetres of reality.  
He didn’t really think anymore. He aimed and pulled the trigger.  
Aim.  
Pull the trigger.  
Aim.  
Pull the trigger.  
Aim.  
Pu— 

Bucky stopped. He furrowed his brows in confusion.  
Just before he had been able to pull the trigger, his target had been hit by a strange, blue light and…pulverised, in lack of a better word.  
Then another.  
And another.

He pulled away from his scope and looked over the battlefield.  
Beams of blue light shot from somewhere still not visible to the eye. And whatever the light hit, it destroyed. 

Then suddenly it stopped and everything was eerily quiet.  
Only the shouts of the injured or dying and some far-away shots could still be heard.

_  
_

“What the hell was that?”, Gabe asked. Bucky had no answer.  
He slowly rose from his crouched position within the foxhole. Dum Dum and Gabe followed him, as they stepped out of cover to get a better view of what had happened.  
Another few beams of the strange blue light flashed through the night. Killing some more Germans and shooting deep crater into the soil, where they missed. 

****

“That looks—”, Dum Dum started, attempting an explanation, but stopped when they heard the screeching of a chain drive.  
“—new”, he finished dumbfounded, as a massive tank shoved itself over the hill and fully into view. 

Bucky slowly turned his head up to look at the monstrosity. He didn’t want to. He really didn’t. Didn’t want to see the next thing, that would continuously try to kill them.  
The tank was large and different than what they had encountered so far. It was obvious by the ominous blue gleam from inside it, that it was the source of the blue beams. 

A sinking feeling made his stomach drop and a foul taste washed over his tongue. An intense rush of adrenaline flooded through his veins, as the tank moved it’s tank gun towards them.  
His body reacted without his conscious decision. Acting on sole survival instinct. 

“DUCK!”  
He screamed and flung his body side-ways to tackle Dum Dum to the ground.

Only a second later, a large beam of blue light flashed over their heads and caused their foxhole to explode.  
Dirt flew all around them.  
For a moment, Bucky didn’t know where was up and where was down. His whole world seemed to swirl in a ringing in his ears and debris all around. 

“Bucky!”

Bucky felt a hard grip around his upper left arm and his body was suddenly dragged into the newly created crater. He blinked, as he finally could discern again where he was.  
Dum Dum and Gabe cowered next to him, Dum Dum’s hand still on his arm. Blue gleamed around them in multiple places. The foxhole was now almost triple the size of before.  
That anything would be able to do that seemed surreal. 

“Fuck”, Gabe suddenly yelled and jumped away from one of the blue smoldering…things. His eyes were wide and his jaw slacked, as his face was contorted into a mask of horror.  
Bucky quickly turned his head to see, what Gabe was looking at. 

Gabe’s radio had obviously touched one of the blue lights. Now it seemed as if the blue light slowly ate away and pulverised the radio. Gabe had pulled it off and jumped away to prevent it from…well…pulverising him, too.  
Bucky’s jaw tightened and his teeth ground together. He liked science-fiction. He really did. But this got too close for comfort to something out of the books he loved to read.

“What the hell _is_ this?!”, Dum Dum whispered, the defencive snarl in his voice indicated how terrified he truly was.  
Bucky felt the urge to cross himself, but he feared, that even God couldn’t help them anymore. 

“KAPITULATION!”  
The shout of broken German suddenly rang above the screeching of chain drives and groaning of injured. 

Bucky’s stomach dropped. 

“KAPITULATION! WE SURRENDER! KAPITULATION!”

His breath stopped and his heart beat stuttered for a second.  
Eyes wide in fear, he shot around and looked at Gabe. A mirror of his own raw, all-consuming panic met him.  
Bucky felt as if he might be sick.

Capitulation meant only one thing: Becoming prisoners of war. 

And that…that might just be worse than dying in these god-forsaken pits of dirt and blood.

  


* * *

**_October 15th, 1943_**  
**_Austria, Kreischberg_**  
**_HYDRA Weapon Facility_**

Twelve days.

Twelve days of almost no food.  
Twelve days of barely any water.  
Twelve days of endless walking.

Bucky’s feet hurt. His throat scratched. He hadn’t talked in days. They had stopped after one of the guards had beat John Millerton almost to death after talking one time too much.  
Death. That had been a constant as well.  
Bucky knew about the Geneva Conventions. They had learnt about them before they had been shipped off to fight. But as so many things, that were vastly different in reality than on paper, this particular breed of Germans didn’t really care about any Conventions. He wasn’t even sure _who_ they were at all, since they had killed off other Germans as well as Allied Forces.

When they had capitulated, they had been about 800 men. 78 of them had already died. Starved or beat to death and some had died from the cold weather.  
Their uniforms weren’t made for the harsh Austrian autumn, that raged around them with freezing wind, temperatures under 10 degree centigrade and rain. Always rain. Bucky hadn’t felt his face or hands in what felt like an eternity. The rain and the wind were like bullets, piercing his skin, burning cold and numbing every sensory experience. 

Bucky coughed.  
Dum Dum next to him grunted in worry, but didn’t say anything. They didn’t dare to talk. Not after Millerton.  
Bucky ignored the burn in his lungs, as they walked along yet another valley. He wouldn’t give these damn Germans the satisfaction of dying.

“They say we’re close”, Gabe suddenly whispered from behind them.  
He was one of the few, who understood enough German to make sense of what the guard talked about. Bucky nodded slightly. And coughed again. It was time they arrived somewhere. Bucky wasn’t sure how much longer he would withstand the sickness, that had him sweating and shivering for six days now.  
He could only hope, that they would at least provide some sort of medical help. 

_  
_

It was only two hours later, that they came upon a large factory snugged between two mountain ranges at the end of the valley. The compound was enormous. It had one large warehouse and two tall Halls made of brick, each of them easily able to house at least three planes within them. The tall buildings were lit and the sound of metal hammering on metal rang around them, echoing off the mountains and multiplying their noise.  
The rain pattered down on them, making Bucky cough and shiver, as the drops fell constantly from his hair and nose. 

His thoughts became as numb as his fingers, when he finally understood what they were about to become. POW from the US and UK usually got treated well, thanks to the Geneva Conventions. Bucky instantly knew when he saw the brick buildings, that they wouldn’t have that kind of luck.

When the large gates opened in front of them, Bucky felt as if all hope flooded out of him and washed away with the pouring rain. He _knew_ he would die here.  
His body moved without him consciously doing it. He regretted, that he hadn’t written more often to his sisters. To his mother.  
And to Steve. Good, sickly Steve, who would take on the whole world if he just could. 

A numbness different to the one Bucky knew from battle overcame him.  
He coughed and his lungs rattled.  
A strange sense of gratitude overcame him at the certainty, that neither Steve nor his sisters would ever have to experience this torture.

Suddenly he felt an elbow ram into his side.  
Bucky looked up, harshly pulled from his dark thoughts. A German soldier in neat uniform and a warm coat stood in front of him and looked less than pleased. Next to him was a table at which two more soldiers sat, paper in front of one of them and a pen in his hand.  
Next to the three soldiers, the warm light of the inside of the building lured him like a moth, promising salvation but only giving damnation.

“Name”, the soldier in front of Bucky demanded.  
“Ja— _koff_ — James Buchanan Barnes”, Bucky answered and tried to shield his body from the rain by wrapping his arms around his torso.  
“Birth date.” The English was heavily accented and broken, but understandable.  
“March 10th — _koff_ — 1917.”  
“Rank.”  
“Sergea— _koff_ — Sergeant.” Bucky felt exhausted from talking. It was difficult and all he wanted was to cough his lungs out. Or sleep. Sleep sounded like pure bliss.  
“Service number.”  
“3225 — _koff_ — 57038.”  
“Nationality.”  
“America— _koff_.”

The German soldier looked disgusted by the constant coughing, but Bucky couldn’t care less.  
“ _Becker_ ” — The soldier next to the one writing down the names perked up instantly. — “ _gib Doktor Schneider Bescheid. Einige von denen sehen aus, als würden sie keine Gewehrpatrone aufheben können._ (inform Doctor Schneider. Some of them look like they can’t even lift a rifle cartridge.)”  
Bucky didn’t understand, what the soldier had said, but he hoped, that the word that sounded like doctor actually meant doctor. 

Then he was roughly shoved into the light and at least the rain stopped. 

“Name.”  
“Timothy Dugan.”

Bucky coughed again, as he was shoved through the large warehouse. Everywhere were huge machines and so many people working on those machines, carrying ammunition, filling empty containers with strange looking rifles. Filling them and filling them, so they could be carried away, down to the front line. To kill. 

_A weapon factory._

The thought struck Bucky like lightening. They would be forced to built the very weapons, that would kill their comrades.  
Another cough shook his whole body and made him stumble upon that revelation. Bucky felt weak and sick. 

This would be hell.

  


* * *

They shoved Bucky into a cell, that was probably as large as Steve’s tiny flat back in Brooklyn, but housed at least twenty people already. The concrete floor was sparsely covered with moist straw and suddenly Bucky was strangely glad, that he couldn’t smell with his blocked nose.

Bucky coughed and coughed and only stopped, when a strong arm wound itself around his torso and pulled him down in a sitting position.  
“Stop making such a ruckus, Jimmy”, Dum Dum’s droning bass thundered through Bucky’s hurting head.  
“Come on, Dum Dum”, that was Gabe Jones, “he’s had a cough even before…you know, before Azzano.”  
Bucky slowly but surely got his coughing fit under control. But his rib cage hurt and his lungs burnt like hellfire itself. Everything _ached_. 

“Whatever you’re doing to keep him alive, do it silently”, another voice suddenly joined in, it’s accent decidedly British. “He’s attracting the Angel of Purgatory and that’s not something you want, believe me.”  
Bucky, finally able to take a breath, looked up and into the concerned face of a member of the British Parachute Brigade, judging by his uniform and accent.  
“Attracting the _what_?”, Dum Dum asked incredulously. 

But before his question could be answered, their cell was opened once again. Two soldiers entered, rifles ready and aimed at them.  
“ _Bewegt euch!_ ”, one of them shouted and the Brit immediately pulled Dum Dum and Bucky up from their sitting position and farther into the cell. The soldiers stepped inside and held them at gun point. 

Then the clicking sound of heels echoed on the concrete floor and a woman entered.  
Bucky swallowed and tried to suppress a cough. 

The woman was tall and had beautiful blonde hair, piercing hazel eyes and full lips painted in sinful red. She didn’t wear a uniform, instead her body was clad in a white blouse and a dark vest with a matching skirt, hugging her figure deliciously. Bucky would have mistaken her for the epiphany of an angel, if her whole being didn’t scream coldness and danger. 

“Those of you, who are new, step forward”, she said and now Bucky’s jaw almost dropped. Her voice was smooth and husky, like smoke of a really expensive cigar — poisonous and yet irresistible. But what actually surprised him, was the complete lack of a German accent. The lack of any accent at all, to be precise.

Before Bucky could come to a conclusion about the woman in front of him, Gabe had pulled him forward.  
The sudden movement caused him to cough again. 

Immediately sharp hazel eyes zeroed in on him and even though Bucky was used to gals looking at him, he felt as if he would prefer if _she_ didn’t look at him at all. Not if she looked like a predator ready to eat her unassuming prey lock, stock and barrel.  
“Name and rank”, she demanded sharply, while she took three steps and was suddenly in front of him.

“Sergea— _koff_ —nt James Bar— _koff_ — Barnes”, Bucky answered and tried not to shy away from her like a mouse from a cat, when she gripped his chin. Strong, slender fingers bored themselves painfully into his skin, as she pulled his head down to look into his eyes. Surprisingly, she didn’t have to pull that far down, for she was only half a head smaller than Bucky. 

“Hn”, she huffed and let go of his chin as if she had burned herself. Then her eyes wandered over Dum Dum and Gabe and the other six, who had been captured at Azzano and put into that cell.  
“Fever?”, she asked sharply, as she turned her focus back on Bucky. He simply nodded, speaking was too painful.  
“Pain in your rib cage?” Again Bucky nodded. The doctor’s lips twitched displeased. Bucky felt as if he was currently judged and terribly failing. 

“ _Sergeant Barnes steht unter Beobachtung_ ”, she said in German and walked away from him. “ _Holt mich wieder, wenn er Eiter hustet._ ”  
She turned again right at the entrance to the cell, a cold, uncaring look on her face, and threw one last scrutinising look at Bucky. “ _Mal sehen, wie lange er es überhaupt macht._ ” 

With that, she vanished and the soldiers closed the cell again.  
The only thing that remained with Bucky was the sound of her heels on the concrete and the sinking feeling in his stomach, that this had been all he would get regarding medical help. 

“What did — _koff_ — she — _koff_ — say?”, Bucky asked and turned towards Gabe.  
“Well…she put you under observation”, Gabe said reluctantly.  
“That’s good, isn’t it?”, Dum Dum droned, but it wasn’t Gabe who answered.  
The Brit took it upon himself to say: “Nothing’s ever good when the Angel of Purgatory is involved.”  
“Yeah, the Brit’s right”, Gabe confirmed. “She said _let’s see how long he makes it, anyway_. Doesn’t sound very hope-inspiring.”  
Bucky coughed and let himself slide down at one of the walls. His head felt heavy and his body ached. 

“Falsworth’s the name, by the way. James Montgomery Falsworth. 3rd Independent Parachute Brigade”, the Brit introduced himself and sat down, just as Dum Dum and Gabe also tried to make themselves comfortable next to Bucky.  
“Dum Dum Dugan”, Dum Dum replied, “that’s Jones” — he pointed at Gabe — “and that’s Jimmy.”  
“It’s — _koff_ — Bucky”, Bucky insisted and closed his eyes. He let his head fall back against the wall and simply tried to breath.  
“Bucky? How do you get _that_ from James?”, Falsworth asked with a lifted brow. Bucky just mumbled: “Middle— _koff_ — name’s Bu— _koff_ — Buchanan.”

“Speaking of”, Gabe said and looked at the Brit. “Why Angel of Purgatory? I mean, I get the whole angel thing, but…”, he trailed off.  
“You familiar with the bible?”, Falsworth asked. And since Dum Dum simply huffed offended at that, Falsworth continued: “So you know purgatory, yes? The place where righteous souls get purified after death to move on. This here? This is purgatory, a variation of hell. The burning before salvation. But there's no salvation here, because the good doctor keeps us in endless purgatory.”  
Falsworth looked almost haunted as he added: “She keeps us alive…and I’m not sure, if that isn’t worse than dying in here.”

  


* * *

Irene closed the door to her room behind her.  
Her eyes fell shut and she leaned against the wood of the door. Exhausted. Frustrated.  
Faces upon faces flickered through her mind. So many new prisoners. So many new men to die here, while she couldn’t help them like she wanted to. A painful sigh flooded her body.  
Dum Dum had been captured. Good-hearted, light-natured Dum Dum Dugan with so much love for his wife.  
And blue-eyes. Blue-eyes had also been captured. 

The smell of fire smoke and coffee suddenly lingered around her and a deep voice filled with smug mirth.

_That’s a whole lot of moxie you got there, doll._

Irene opened her eyes abruptly and looked at the doctor’s bag in the corner next to her desk. Her fingers twitched with the urge to grab it.  
She knew, that there was some penicillin in there.  
She knew, that Barnes really needed it.  
But she also knew, that she couldn’t show any mercy but the barely necessary, lest she blew her cover. A spy had no business with feelings. No matter who elicited them. 

Nonetheless, as she sat down at her desk and pulled paper, pen and her copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy to her, blue eyes haunted her.  
She took a deep breath and tried to push James Barnes’ piercing eyes and Dum Dum Dugan’s moustache-framed grin from her mind, while she wrote a coded message on the piece of paper and hid it between banknotes in her wallet. With a last look onto her doctor’s bag and a heavy heart, she grabbed her purse and coat.  
It was time to go and eat something. 

_  
_

“ _Doktor Schneider! Wohin des Weges?_ (Doctor Schneider! Where are you going?)” Irene put on a smile and turned. She was almost outside the facility. She had been _so close_.  
“ _Ich kenne ein wunderbares österreichisches Restaurant in der Stadt_ (I know a wonderful Austrian restaurant in the city)”, Irene answered and pulled her red lips into an even wider smile. Johann Schmidt mirrored her smile and said: “ _Ich hoffe Sie haben nichts gegen etwas Gesellschaft?_ (I hope you’re not against company?)”  
“ _Natürlich nicht_ (Of course not)”, Irene answered, although she would have loved to answer truthfully. The presence of the Red Skull would complicate her mission profoundly. But Irene wasn’t one of the best trained spies for nothing.  
So she plastered a pleasant smile on her lips and let her eyes shine with interest, while Schmidt took her arm and told her about what he expected from her in regard of the serum. 

Surprisingly enough, the dinner was almost pleasant. Irene found, that Schmidt could be a charming conversationalist and more than once, she had plunged into scientific dreams about the Tesseract with him. It was all too easy to forget the sin when faced with temptation. And the power of the Tesseract was a scientific temptation if Irene ever had seen one.  
But the waitress, who was her SOE contact, kept Irene grounded and in reality. Whenever her mind wandered too much or Schmidt’s vision grew a bit too interesting, Irene let her eyes swipe over the other occupants of the restaurant and found the pretty, brunette waitress. A reminder of what was at stake.

It was right after they had eaten, that Irene decided to take action.  
“ _Entschuldigen Sie_ ”, she said and took her purse, “ _ich gehe mir nur schnell die Nase pudern._ (Excuse me, I’m just going to powder my nose.)”  
With that, she stood from her chair and went towards the toilets. 

There, she took a deep breath. It was exhausting, being around Schmidt. And if she assessed him accurately, then her usual way of passing on the message was futile. Schmidt was a man, who would insist on paying for her, which would render the small message in between banknotes futile.  
But Irene wouldn’t be Irene, if she wouldn’t have at least three back-up plans. So she pulled the cover from the lavatory cistern and grabbed a water-tight plastic bag from the water, that had been placed there for emergencies like this. With skilled fingers, she put her message made of numbers upon numbers inside the bag, sealed it carefully and weighed it down with a stone inside the cistern. 

With her deed successfully done, Irene went to the mirror in the toilet, dried her hands and put on some red lipstick. Then she fluffed up her hair and took a deep breath. She gave herself a winning, encouraging smile and left to meet up with Schmidt. The persona of HYDRA-loyal Irene Schneider washed over her like a wave of foul tasting water as soon as she left the toilets.  
Just as she had anticipated, Schmidt had already payed and after they finished their glasses of red wine in pleasant conversation, Schmidt and Irene left the restaurant. The first none the wiser and the latter firmly placed at his arm like the good little doctor she played. 

_  
_

The waitress, however, rushed to the restroom and pulled the message from the cistern to put it in her wallet. Because numbers on a piece of paper in the wallet of a waitress wasn’t actually that conspicuous. 

Later in the evening, once the waitress was home and sat in front of the radio to forward the decoded message, a frown was etched onto her face. The piece of paper laid next to her, as well as a copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy.  
She radioed: “Message from Black Cat. 701 new POW in Kreischberg. Conditions bad. Request liberation of POW.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya fellas!
> 
> Sorry for the long wait, my health wasn't that great the last two weeks.  
> But as an apology, this chapter got longer than I anticipated and well...hope you liked it?  
> It was a bit difficult to write from Bucky's POV, since I never have experienced battle and hope I never have to. I really hope I captured him well enough?
> 
> Another thing I have to apologise for: the numbers don't add up.  
> An infantry division is made of around at least 6000 soldiers. And to have all the divisions at the Battle of Azzano, that need to be there, I would've had around 21000 soldiers...even if I cut down those numbers significantly with them stationed along a long line of defence, etc. I would still have more people becoming POW to HYDRA, than the MCU portrayed.  
> According to the MCU, Captain America saved close to 400 POWs. So either the HYDRA facility has a sky-high mortality rate...or the numbers don't add up.  
> I blame Marvel for this inaccuracy and wash my hands of responsibility.
> 
> What did you think about Bucky? The scene at the very beginning was part of a deleted scene from the movie and I just had to include it. 
> 
>  
> 
> Many heartfelt thanks to everyone, who subscribed and left kudos! I really, really appreciate that. It motivates so much!  
>   
>  _And thank you so much for the comments. It made my heart swell with pride and joy!!_  
>   
> 
> Read ya soon,  
> Murphy


	7. 06 - A Splattering Of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene discovers something about her own blood, that is...slightly unsettling. 
> 
> There's also some Irene/Bucky-Action in this one! Yay! Just maybe not in the way one might think...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** WARNING: This chapter contains depictions of violence! **

**_October 4th, 1943_**  
**_Austria, Kreischberg_**  
**_HYDRA Weapon Facility_**

Hair pinned back in victory curls, yet another immaculate costume hugging her slender figure and heels announcing her arrival, Irene rushed into the sparsely lit laboratory.  
It was already late and many of the other scientists had left the lab for their accommodations hours ago. Only those few, who were either too low on the hierarchy to make any demands or high enough to suffer consequences, if things didn’t go as requested, were still working. Their hair wild from repeatedly running a hand through it and the white lab coats hanging after a fashion on their frames.

Irene didn’t care. Didn’t even bother to glance at them. She was a woman on a mission and those were wisely not to be interrupted.

With determined steps, she made her way to her desk and sat down.  
One of her slender hands pulled the microscope closer, while the other produced a vial of blood from within the pockets of her vest. Dark green fabric this time, with another white blouse and the trusty black notebook hidden away.  
Most concentrated, her lower lip pulled between her teeth, she prepared the slide with the blood from the vial and looked through the microscope. 

For a second she held her breath, then she opened her eyes and saw—  
Not what she expected.

_  
_

Normally one would see the flow of red blood cells within translucent plasma. And as spectacular as that was in itself, Irene’s blood did decidedly not look like that.  
In between the red blood cells, small wisps of the blue Tesseract energy seemed to shoot around. The energy moved in such a speed, that her plasma didn’t seem translucent anymore, but had taken on a bluish tint.  
That, however, was nothing new to Irene. The blue energy had been there the day after the incident, when Irene had first drawn her own blood to analyse it. Even her plasma had already looked slightly blue. 

But back then, the blue energy had destroyed the blood cells it touched. The regeneration rate of her blood cells had been so high, presumptively due to the blood of Schmidt in her system, that her cells had regenerated themselves fast enough to compensate for the cells destroyed by the Tesseract energy.  
Irene had worried what would happen once the effect of Schmidt’s blood would run out.

Now, however — and that made Irene’s palms sticky with cold sweat and her heart beat speed up uncomfortably — her blood cells seemed to absorb the energy that hit them. Her plasma still had the bluish tint and approximately half of her blood cells were still red…but the other half was a shade of striking purple. 

Shocked to the core, Irene flew back from the microscope and hit the back of her chair harshly. 

She swallowed thickly.  
Her mind ran a million miles a minute. Her thoughts went head over heels and tripped all over her brain.  
For a second her whole world spun and the centre of gravitation seemed to change as everything turned upside down.

Then clarity came back and her heart beat levelled again.  
Immediately hazel eyes rushed towards her skin. Her veins _did_ look a lot more blue than seemed to be healthy.  
Skin usually filtered the red from the blood and it was easier for the short-waved blue to become visible. Irene had never been so glad about that particular fact of human nature. It would easily explain why her veins seemed to be more purple than normal and would cover up the… _singularity_ of her blood.

Now, that a possibly deadly or at least uncomfortable discovery by HYDRA could be avoided, to the obvious question:  
What the hell was happening to her?

_  
_

Irene destroyed the sample of her blood without any hesitation, while her mind produced one possible plan after another.  
Her blood could have developed a resistance against the energy due to the long exposure to it, thanks to Schmidt’s blood keeping her from dying. A possible mutation. Nothing that didn’t happen all the time in nature anyway. Although it was not usually heard of when in contact with powerful extra-terrestrial energy sources…

First, she would need to somehow get her hands on the research Zola had done on the Tesseract. It would help her to understand what she dealt with.  
Maybe she could argue, that the Tesseract could help with recreating the serum…or even improve it. Zola and Schmidt should rise to that bait easily enough.

Second— 

Irene stopped herself.  
Her breath hitched and her gaze sharpened, as she turned and looked at the blue glowing Tesseract within it’s contraption. 

What if….

A rush of ice-cold fear flooded her whole being, before it was replaced by red-hot curiosity. 

What if she made some more tests?

Because second…second would logically be more exposure to the energy.  
And Irene couldn’t shake the thought of what might happen, if she exposed herself to another dose of those blue wisps. If her blood cells had learnt to absorb the energy — and all parameters pointed towards that — then it should be able to absorb more than the small burst of energy that had hit her.  
Then the possibilities were endless, because then— 

Irene furrowed her brows and pressed her red lips together.

This was madness.

_Madness!_

Who in their right mind would even consider such an insane thing!?

_  
_

And yet…  
The blue glow of the Tesseract illuminated the dark laboratory and Irene just couldn’t find it in herself to look away.

  


* * *

  


**_October 7th, 1943_**  
**_Austria, Kreischberg_**  
**_HYDRA Weapon Facility_**

The deafening noise of machines and cranes and metal on metal hit Irene unpleasantly, as she stepped on the walkway, that gave a nice overview of the warehouse. Countless POWs laboured beneath her, putting weapons and ammunition together, so that the scientists could fuel them with the Tesseract. 

A tingle ran over Irene’s skin, as she thought about the Tesseract. Soon…

Her hazel gaze travelled over the men, who would be laboured to death. A hard, cold expression fixed on her face, Irene didn’t show how much such a sight actually made her heart ache.  
She felt the burn in her muscles, when she saw Dum Dum Dugan struggle to lift up a box filled with rifles.  
And the groaning of her joints, as she saw Gabe Jones try to subtly stretch his back.  
Even the piercing pain of James Barnes’ rattling cough. 

But in all that, Irene’s posture was unmoved. Her fingers didn’t twitch, although her mind screamed at her to get the penicillin out and give Barnes the shot he so desperately needed. She didn’t need to look to her right to know, that one of Zola’s assistants was watching him, though.  
It amazed her as much as Zola, that Barnes was still able to stand, to work even, with his obvious pneumonia. It told of a natural resilience, that would be needed in their experiments.

Therefore Irene didn’t dare to intervene. Not when Barnes was so closely watched already. It would raise uncomfortable questions.  
And that was the last thing Irene needed to deal with. She still waited on orders from Colonel Phillips regarding the POWs.

_  
_

A sudden loud clatter had her head spin around. Her lips pressed tightly together, as she saw that it had been James Barnes, who had been too weak to move the cart and thus ammunition fell loudly onto the concrete ground.  
For a moment, the whole warehouse seemed to hold it’s breath. Irene could see the sweat glistening on Barnes’ face and the fever in his dull eyes, that once had been radiating nothing but life. Dum Dum Dugan, Gabe Jones and men she recognised as James Falsworth and Jaques Dernier, who all were close to Barnes, had stilled. Their faces filled with horror. 

“BARNES!”

The shout echoed through the hall and almost made Irene jump out of her skin in fright.

Hans Lohmer came with large steps towards the section Barnes and his friends were stationed at. His face showed nothing but excitement and Irene felt suddenly sick.  
She knew what would happen. And as she plastered a carefully neutral, cold look onto her face, she took a subtle breath to steal herself for what was about to happen. 

“ _Taugenichts! Zu dämlich um eine einfache Aufgabe zu erledigen, das bist du!_ (Wastrel! You’re too dumb to get the easiest tasks done!)”, Lohmer yelled and slapped Barnes right in the face as soon as he had reached him. “ _Wart nur, dir werde ich Beine machen._ (Just you see, I’ll make you get a move on.)” He looked frantically around, his whole body vibrating in eagerness.  
Irene’s skin crawled with a thousand needles as she saw him grab the shell of a tank ammunition with both hands. 

“ _Arbeiten—_ ”  
Lohmer reached back with the shell and hit with full force.  
“ _—sollst—_ ”  
He hit Barnes again.  
“ _—du!_ ” (You are to work)  
Another brutal hit.  
And another one. Barnes fell to the ground.  
“ _Nicht—_ ”  
Blood splattered, as Lohmer caused a laceration with his fifth hit. Barnes’ body went slack.  
“ _—sabotieren!_ ” (not sabotage.)  
He reached back, aiming straight at the head of an unconscious Barnes.

“LOHMER!”

_  
_

The shout had left Irene’s lips without a thought. 

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

Her mind did a somersault and one thought tripped over the other in raw panic. A sudden feeling of being hit with ice-cold water made every muscle of her body tense.  
Why had she done that?!  
The healed scars on her back itched uncomfortably.  
Dumb. That was such a dumb move. Utterly, irrevocably _dumb_.

_  
_

The guard stopped before hitting Barnes a sixth time and looked up to the walkway. Right at Irene.  
“ _Was?!_ (What)” His face was contorted into an ugly grimace, filled with fury for being stopped.  
Irene’s own facial expression didn’t show anything of her inner turmoil and it was in that moment, that she was grateful for the brutal training she had received. 

“ _Das ist genug_ (That’s enough)”, she said in a cold, authoritative tone, her lips nothing but a thin, angered line of red. Her mind, however, still searched frantically for a plausible explanation.  
Lohmer snarled and shouted back: “ _Disziplinarverfahren gehen Sie nichts an, Doktor._ (Disciplinary procedure is none of your concern, doctor.)” He hadn’t needed to shout. The warehouse was eerily quiet, all observing how the Angel of Purgatory had stopped a guard from hitting a prisoner.  
“ _Bei diesem schon_ (Concerning this one, it is.)”, was all Irene said in a sharp tone, her eyes blazing with cold fury and her chin held high, just daring him to talk back to her.

Her brain had found the perfect reasoning. Relief washed over her like a promise of water within the desert.  
Barnes’ natural resilience had piqued their scientific interest and was considered for experimentation. It would be rather inconvenient, if Lohmer beat him to death beforehand.  
Irene deemed that a reasonable explanation for her actions. And as she looked to her side and saw Zola’s assistant nod eagerly, she finally felt like she had the upper hand again.

For a second, it seemed as if Lohmer wanted to object, but then he nodded curtly and let the shell fall to the ground. “ _Zu Befehl_ (Yes, Ma’am)”, he grunted out and left the warehouse with angry steps.  
Irene on the other hand shot an indifferent look down to the bloodied heap that was James Barnes. “Kleiber.” Klaus Kleiber, the lieutenant responsible for her safety, moved immediately and stood in attention, ready to receive orders.  
“ _Bring ihn in mein Behandlungszimmer_ (get him to my treatment room)”, Irene ordered and Klaus rushed down the stairs. 

Irene observed how Falsworth and Gabe had to hold back Dum Dum from getting to Barnes or hindering Klaus from retrieving him.  
“WAIT!”, Dum Dum yelled, as Klaus carried Barnes past him. “Where the hell are you bringing him?!”  
“He’s suffered enough, you damn bitch!”, Gabe shouted even while he struggled against Dum Dum. Irene’s lips twitched. 

_I’m hard as steel. Hard as steel. Words can’t touch me._

She reminded herself.

_They don’t know. I have to play my part. Words can’t touch me. They don’t know._

A cruel smile curled around her lips and her hazel eyes burned with false mirth, as she said towards Barnes’ friends: “He’s a good worker. It would be a shame to loose him so early.”  
With that she turned on her heels and followed after Klaus and Becker, who had hurried along to help Klaus with the unconscious Barnes. 

Dum Dum Dugan’s shouts followed her out of the hall.  
The raw hatred made her heart bleed and her throat tighten with remorse, she wouldn’t ever be able to show if she wanted to keep her head attached to her shoulders.

“DAMN KRAUTS! DAMN YOU ALL! DAMN YOU, WITCH! I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL!”

_Burn in hell?_ Irene thought bitterly, as the door to the warehouse closed with a finite bang behind her, a stale taste on her tongue. _That I already do._

  


* * *

  


The harsh smell of disinfectant burned her nose, as Irene put on medical gloves and cleaned her set of instruments.  
Klaus and Becker had lifted Barnes on the examination table in the mean time. So Irene turned and looked at Becker, who still hovered next to Klaus.

“ _Danke, Becker_ (Thanks, Becker)”, she said dismissively. The young soldier hesitated and looked from Irene to Klaus and then down to the unconscious Barnes.  
Irene lifted a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “ _Der Gefangene ist bewusstlos. Leutnant Kleiber reicht vollkommen aus um für meine Sicherheit zu sorgen. Oder fürchten Sie, dass der Gefangene plötzlich aufspringt und Ihren Vorgesetzten außer Gefecht setzt? Oder halten Sie mich etwa für nicht in der Lage einen Gefangenen ruhig zu stellen?_ (The prisoner is unconscious. Lieutenant Kleiber is enough to ensure my safety. Or are you afraid, that the prisoner suddenly jumps up and takes out your superior? Or do you deem me not able to tranquillise a prisoner?)” A slight mocking undertone lay in her voice, that had Becker pale in fright.  
“ _Natürlich nicht, Doktor_ (Of course not, Doctor)”, Becker swallowed thickly, saluted and left the room hurriedly. 

“Hn”, Irene huffed, but didn’t comment on the young soldier any further. She and Klaus had been going through the procedure of treating prisoners for months now. They had both been trained and were more than capable of defending themselves. Not that the common solider knew about any training Irene had received. Even Klaus only thought, that she had undergone a basic combat training for her own safety. 

“ _Die Schüssel mit Wasser, bitte_ (Hand me the bowl of water, please)”, Irene ordered, while she examined the profoundly bleeding head wound.  
A moment later, a bowl of water with a clean towel appeared in her field of vision. She took the towel, wrung it out and started to gently dab the partially dried and partially still flowing blood away. 

Silence hang over the examination room, while Irene worked with practised movements.  
Her thoughts still tried to catch up with her actions and the water turned more pink with every time she cleaned the towel. Irene wasn’t sure, why she had intervened. She just…

…didn’t know. 

_  
_

It hadn’t been the first time, that Lohmer had been overly brutal to a prisoner. By God, no.  
There had been multiple cuts and injuries, Irene had had to stitch together again due to Lohmer’s temper.  
She put the bowl and towel away and grabbed for the iodine, tongs and a cotton ball. 

Maybe it actually was partially because Barnes was considered for experimentation…Irene’s lips twitched uncomfortably.  
She dabbed the cotton ball held by the tongs into the iodine and started to disinfect the head wound.  
Irene wasn’t above admitting, that the scientific part of her brain was actually interested in whether or not Zola and her would be able to recreate the scientific miracle that was the super soldier serum. It was disgusting. Considering human experimentation, that was. But Irene was not just a doctor, she was a scientist.  
And as such, one needs to expand the lines of the possible. Which sometimes means expanding the line of morality, too. 

Lines of morality…if Irene was utterly honest to herself, her morals hadn’t been what they used to be in way too long a time.  
For a second her mind wandered towards her own little research project and her eyes twitched towards the microscope and the well-hidden samples of her own blood at her working station in the examination room. 

But that couldn’t have been all.  
Irene almost threw the tongs on the metal plate in a sudden fit of anger.  
She flat-out refused to believe, that her only motivation to intervene had been of such a cruel, inhuman nature. 

Her lips tightly pressed together, she grabbed the surgical needle and suture. As she leaned over James Barnes’ head, her face intimately close to his own, she stopped for the fraction of a second.  
He _was_ very handsome.

Then her brain caught up with her body and she started to suture the large wound right at his hair line. Klaus noticing her hesitation was something she really didn’t need.  
He was one of the more humane guards, yes, but he was still a passionate proponent for HYDRA’s ideology and her friendship with him would certainly not stop him from ratting her out to Schmidt.  
Her hands were sure, as she expertly closed the wound. Nonetheless, Barnes would take away a scar from his encounter with Lohmer. 

The ghost of a smile hushed over her face at that thought. She was certain, that Sergeant Barnes would still make all the dames wacky about him, as Juniper had worded so eloquently. 

Her expression fell and her eyes widened, as her fingers stilled in their work. 

That was it!  
Irene’s teeth pulled her lower lip in and her brows furrowed.  
Then her carefully created mask slipped back on and nothing could be read on her face.

She tied the last stitch and placed the surgical needle back onto the metal plate holding all her instruments.  
Without showing her inner turmoil, Irene took the tongues and iodine soaked cotton ball again to dab it onto the freshly sutured wound and Barnes’ split lip.  
For a moment, she didn’t see his bruised and battered face in front of her, but the man sitting opposite to her at a camp fire, oozing a devil-may-care attitude and _so much life_. Irene’s heart ached and shattered into a myriad of pieces at the thought, that someone, who had laughed even when facing death, could be so broken. 

She knew, that this had in truth been the reason she had taken action against Lohmer.  
Whenever she had felt like the burden was too much, whenever she had lost herself in the game of deadly deceit, whenever she hadn’t remembered who she truly was apart from one of HYDRA’s most promising scientists…every single time, she had thought back to that evening around the camp fire.  
Had tasted the smoke and joe on her tongue.  
Had heard Dum Dum Dugan’s hearty laugh.  
Had seen Barnes’ intense blue eyes sparkle in glee at Juniper’s teasing.

And every time she had remembered, what she fought for. Why she sold her soul and burnt in hell.

Her hazel eyes looked down at the man on her table. Without knowing it, he and his friends had saved her so many times.  
She wanted to scoff. It was only fair, that she tried to lessen his suffering without his knowledge now. 

_  
_

With a loud snap, she pulled the medical gloves from her hands and turned towards the lurking form of Klaus.  
“ _Jetzt müssen wir nur warten bis er aufwacht, damit ich ihn auf ein Schädeltrauma untersuchen kann_ (Now we just have to wait until he wakes up, so I can assess any possible brain damage)”, she said, while she sent a somewhat annoyed smile at him. “ _Warum gehst du nicht und gönnst dir deine Mittagspause? Ein derart verletzter und geschwächter Patient wird mir schon nichts tun._ (Why don’t you take your lunch break? A prisoner as weak and injured as him isn’t going to be able to hurt me)”  
Klaus hesitated for a second, his narrowed eyes burning holes into the still form of Barnes, but then he nodded. 

“ _Soll ich dir was mitbringen?_ (Do you want me to get you something?)”, he asked, a concerned look crossing over his face.  
Irene shook her head. “ _Danke, ich habe noch Reste hier._ (Thanks, I still got leftovers)” She pointed at the small fridge, that held next to many samples of blood a bit of her lunch from yesterday.  
“ _Mach’ auch Pause. Du arbeitest zu viel_ (Take a break, too. You’re working too much)”, Klaus said sternly and fixed Irene with a hard look.  
“ _Ja, ja. Mach jetzt, dass du hier raus kommst_ (Yes, yes. Just get out of here)”, Irene chuckled and waved her hands to get him to leave. Klaus laughed lowly, shook his head at her antics and left. 

Irene sighed relieved and leaned back into her chair.  
Her hazel eyes wandered towards Barnes and an unreadable expression flit over her face. Then she turned towards her instruments and started her meticulous routine to clean them, before she would sit at her desk and read once more through the information about the Tesseract Zola had been easily persuaded to lent her. 

  


* * *

  


The first sense, that came back to him, was hearing and with it came the silent shuffling of paper.  
It reminded him of Steve and the way he would shuffle through his sketches to find a piece of paper, that hadn’t yet been decorated by his skills. 

The next sense was smell and that brought the biting burn of disinfectants.  
Bucky wanted to grimace, but everything suddenly hurt. His whole face seemed to be burning in pain.  
A groan escaped his lips and he heard the paper shuffling stop. 

“Sergeant Barnes?”

The voice was husky, but undeniably female. He groaned again, as he tried to gather a clear thought. That smoke and cigarette voice…he had heard it before…  
Now curios, he opened his eyes. Just to immediately shut them again.  
The light was too bright and hurt like hell. His head pounded. 

“The light might hurt.”

_Thanks_ , Bucky thought sarcastically, _wouldn’t have noticed, if you hadn’t told me._

“You probably have a concussion.” The voice told him and Bucky tried again to open his eyes, now prepared for the pain and the wave of nausea, that came with it. The room he found himself in, was obviously made for examination and occupied by a doctor judging by the instruments in the shelves. But it spun and spun and spun around him, making his stomach churn.  
He turned his head sluggishly and saw blonde hair, hazel eyes and red lips. Such a gorgeous dame waiting for him to wake up. A lazy smile tugged on his strangely hurting lips.

_Huh…probably a split lip. Has Steve gotten into a fight again?_

The memory of a yelling guard suddenly came back and hit him like lightning.  
Another wave of nausea rushed through him and he leaned over whatever he laid on to empty out his stomach with loud retching sounds. 

Well, fuck.

“God, please tell me that fuckhead killed me and you’re an angel”, he groaned as he let his body fall back away from the edge. Everything ached and he still shivered and he just felt like utter shit. 

There was a certain sharpness to her tone, when she answered: “Probably not the angel you want to see.”  
That made Bucky look at her again. Her red lips were pulled into a displeased frown and her eyes trained on the mess he had made on the floor. When she lifted her gaze and hazel met blue with such a stern, cold expression, Bucky suddenly knew who exactly was with him.

“Ah… _shit_ ”, he cussed and let his head fall down onto the examination table. She was an angel alright…the fucking Angel of Purgatory.

_  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya fellas,
> 
> as late as the last chapter was, this one is a bit earlier, because I don't know if I got any internet in the next one and a half weeks.  
> So, there's also the chance, that the next chapter is a bit late. (But it's already written and I'm _really_ excited about that one!)
> 
> I hope it was somewhat logical, what I did to Irene's blood and the effects the Tesseract had on her?? According to a friend of mine, who studied biochemistry it's not too far-fetched...
> 
> And sorry for making Bucky unconscious for most of the time Irene and Bucky had together. Well...not really, but you get the gist, yes?  
> I also hope sincerely, that Irene's musings weren't too boring?
> 
>    
> Thanks and welcome to all new subscribers!  
> And thanks to anyone, who left kudos!  
>    
>  _You guys give me so much joy. So really, thanks for that!_  
>   
> 
>  
> 
> Read ya soon,  
> Murphy


	8. 07 - Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this one, Irene's heart beat get's increased by two very different things.

**_October 12th, 1943_**  
**_Austria, Kreischberg_**  
**_HYDRA Weapon Facility_**

Irene’s days were always filled with more to do than she had hours at her disposal.   
There was the fact, that Schmidt wanted results from her and Zola about the serum and since the weapon production had picked up with the arrival of the Tesseract, the serum had somehow became the responsibility of Irene.   
Then she needed to find the weapon plans unguarded at least once for a second. She had a responsibility — really, Irene slowly came to hate that word with a passion — to the good in the world and that good, namely Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter, desperately needed those plans.  
Yes and then…then she still had her little side project. That was actually just for fun and out of pure curiosity. If one not affiliated with science and research could understand the fun in poisoning oneself with possibly deadly doses of extra-terrestrial energy sources. 

And one afternoon every week, she would tend to anyone who had fallen ill within the compound. Including guards, scientists and POWs. 

It was understandable in the light of such a schedule, that she had no patience for anything really. Sometimes even Klaus annoyed her so much, that she tried repeatedly to send him away.   
He usually just took up station outside of the lab or her examination room instead of inside. Her safety had apparently a higher value than her mood.

_  
_

It was a dreary day of autumn, with thick fog clouding any landscape and a soft drizzling rain making any excursion outside unpleasant and the whole facility cold and moist, when Irene saw an opening.   
The other scientists were yet to wake up and start their work, while Irene and some sad few others (including Zola and Schmidt) had already found their way into the laboratory. There would be a change in guards soon and for a moment, the Tesseract and the vials with it’s energy would be almost unattended.  
Irene planned to use that window of opportunity to nick herself a bit of blue glowing energy. 

It was all perfectly timed. 

Irene had chosen the change, when the guards leaving their post were tired from working through the night and the guards taking their place were still not awake enough. She had observed the change pattern for a few days, before she had decided, that the guards Tuesday morning were the most tired out of the batch and usually didn’t start chatting among themselves after the second coup of coffee well into the morning.   
There was an urge in her whole being and a tenseness in her muscles, as she casually sauntered towards the box that held all the glowing vials. Her walking around in the laboratory wasn’t all too weird. She sometimes got up and paced, whenever she thought about something concerning her projects.   
And in the last couple of days, she had made sure to pace to the Tesseract and back, to not raise suspicion if she suddenly walked by it. 

So far, so good.

Irene swallowed and felt her palms grow sweaty.   
Deceiving people and smuggling information was something entirely different to stealing a power battery from directly underneath the big bad’s nose. Her eyes darted towards Schmidt, who was in deep conversation with Zola next to the latest weapon prototypes at the other end of the lab. This had the potential to become a really, really bad idea.  
But then again, the list of things Irene wouldn’t do to satisfy her curiosity and advance her research was alarmingly short. And if she had been a more morally stable person, she might have felt bad about that.

As it was, Irene didn’t feel one iota of remorse, when she walked up to the box and looked at the vials calling out to her. The blue glow illuminated her face, accentuating the greed in her hazel eyes.  
She reached out to nick one of them— 

“ _Faszinierend, nicht wahr?_ (Fascinating, right?)”

Irene actually jerked her hand back, when she heard Schmidt’s voice right behind her. But as she turned, she forcefully tried to keep her movement as confident as possible.   
She belonged in this laboratory. There was nothing strange about her admiring the Tesseract. 

At least that was, what Irene tried to calm herself down with.  
It didn’t help with the rapid beating of her heart, though. 

“ _Sehr_ (Very)”, she replied automatically, but all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears.   
Schmidt’s eyes scrutinised her and for a second, Irene was certain, that he knew she was up to no good. She held her breath. 

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

The noise of the lab, the chattering of the scientists, it all seemed to vanish and Irene’s sole focus narrowed down to Schmidt’s silence.

Then Schmidt turned his own gaze towards the Tesseract, an understanding smile on his face.   
“ _Ich habe lange danach gesucht_ (I’ve searched for it for a long time)”, he started to explain conversationally, “ _und ich denke Sie gehören zu den wenigen, die verstehen warum, Doktor._ (and I think you’re one of the few, who understand why, Doctor.)”

Irene wanted to sigh in relief, her muscles screamed at her to let the slump. But she didn’t allow herself to lower her guard. Not for one second.   
It could be the one second, that would get her _on_ the examination table and not _next_ to it. 

“ _Ich…_ ”, she started, uncertain how to continue. Then Irene decided, that yet again the truth from her strictly scientific, and thus slightly morally screwed, point of view would serve her best, so she continued: “ _Ich kann kaum aufhören ihn anzustarren. Die Möglichkeiten, die eine solche Energiequelle bietet…Es ist so aufregend ein Teil davon zu sein._ (I’m barely able to stop staring at it. The possibilities such an energy source offers…It’s so exciting to be a part of this)” The confession was lowly uttered, hushed as if she felt bad about it.   
Irene had her own experiment in mind as she said that and therefore the conviction in her words was honest. 

A knowing smile slowly pulled Schmidt’s lips into a smirk. “ _Ah, Doktor Schneider, Sie und ich, wir sind verwandte Seelen._ (Ah, Doctor Schneider, you and I, we are kindred spirits.)” He gazed down at her for a second, before he fixed his eyes on the Tesseract again. 

Irene tried her hardest to not think about his implications. To not think about how much truth actually was in them.   
Her teeth pulled her lower lip in between them, as she subtly started to move her left arm. The one on the other side of Schmidt, hidden from view.

She didn’t dare to breath.

She didn’t dare to remove her eyes from Schmidt. 

“ _Manche sehen nicht, dass wir die Welt zum Besseren ändern wollen._ (Some don’t see, that we want to change the world to the better.)”

Her fingertips brushed the cold glass and smooth metal of a vial.   
Irene hoped, _prayed_ , that her palms weren’t too sweaty. 

“ _Ihre Engstirnigkeit ist bedauernswert, nicht wahr?_ (Their narrowmindedness is pitiable, isn’t it?)”

With clever fingers, the vial vanished within one of the pockets of Irene’s vest. And no one around was none the wiser.   
A relieved sigh dared to escape her, so she said hastily in an airy tone: “ _Sie werden nie verstehen, welche Schönheit im Fortschritt liegt._ (They will never see the beauty in progress)” A secretive smile tugged at her red lips, when Schmidt looked at her with a nod at her comment. 

_  
_

“ _Apropos Fortschritt_ (Speaking of progress)”, Schmidt said slowly, his voice taking on a dangerous tint. “ _Welche Fortschritte konnten Sie mit dem Serum machen?_ (What progress did you make concerning the serum?)” Irene let her whole scientific eagerness show at that question. It wasn’t wise to try and hide anything from Schmidt.   
She had found an orchestrated re-directing of his attention and a showcase of genuine emotions (although evoked by different reasons to what Schmidt might think) to work best on men like Schmidt. 

So that was, what Irene did, as she led Schmidt towards her work station and showed him her calculations and her hunch, that although they had the enhancement of the body down, Zola and her struggled to recreate a stable enhancement of the mind. “ _Ich denke, es war schlicht Ihrem starken Geist zu verdanken, dass Sie nicht wie unsere Versuchspersonen endeten_ (I guess the only reason you didn’t end up like our test subjects is only thanks to your strong mind)”, Irene explained with slightly furrowed brows. “ _Erskine muss einen Stabilisator gefunden haben, der in dem Serum in Ihrem Blut noch fehlt. Die meisten unserer Versuchspersonen haben gesteigerte Werte betreffend Zellregeneration und körperlicher Kraft_ (Erskine must have found a stabilisor, which is missing in the serum found in your blood. Most of our test subjects show hightened results regarding cell regeneration and physical power)”, Irene gnawed on her lower lip for a second and handed a chart littered with numbers upon numbers to Schmidt, “ _aber nach drei bis sieben Tagen hat sich ihr Gehirn…nun…_ (but after three to seven days their brain has…well…)”

Irene trailed off and looked slightly uncomfortable under the cold scrutiny of Schmidt. He wanted results, she knew that.   
His tall frame loomed over her, the gun at his hip suddenly looking more threatening than ever before. The dissatisfaction was openly visible in the hard gleam of his eyes and tight line around his mouth. This was bad.   
If Irene wanted to keep her position and with it the ability to spy on HYDRA, keep the POW somewhat alive and remain able to stall the recreation of the Super Soldier Serum to some point…she needed to deliver results.   
“ _Ja?_ (Yes?)”, Schmidt urged Irene on, the threat unveiled in his tone. His eyes narrowed and his brows lifted in a silent warning.

Well…maybe this just became rather a matter of keeping her heart beating, than simply keeping a job.

“ _Die Nebeneffekte des Serums ohne mentalen Stabilisator sind mehr als unschön_ (The side effects of the serum without mental stabiliser have been nasty)”, Irene finished hastily and suddenly she knew, that she couldn’t stall any longer. She was, after all, not indispensable.

“ _Wir werden als nächstes mit ausgesprochen willensstarken Versuchspersonen und LSD experimentieren_ (We will experiment next with strong-minded test subjects and LSD)”, Irene continued, a steely look in her hazel eyes and a sinking feeling in her stomach, that left a foul taste in her mouth. The words felt like acid on her tongue.   
“ _Die ersten Berechnungen und Modelle sehen vielversprechend aus. Ich denke wir können in den nächsten sieben Tagen mit einer neuen Testreihe beginnen._ (The first calculations and models seem to be promising. I think we might be able to start a new test series within the next seven days.)”

  


* * *

  


Irene hadn’t been able to shake the acid feeling on her tongue for the remainder of the day. She had been in such a foul mood actually, that Klaus had voluntarily left her examination room and took a post in front of it. Lest he would become her next test subject.   
Schmidt’s looming threat, her own upcoming experiment and especially the fact, that she had given green light for a next round of human experimentation…it had her on edge.

The few guards, who had caught a flu due to the cold weather and the harsh conditions within the facility, had come in with a smile, happy to have a break from their duties and maybe even get to chat with the beautiful doctor for a bit.   
They all left as fast as they could with pale faces and the urge to cure their flu without the help of the doctor. 

_  
_

Irene was hunched over the notes she had made of her blood. The expected effect of another dose of Tesseract energy was calculated on it. Chemical reactions calculated in numbers and drawings, based on nothing but a hunch and the curiosity, that had a tight, unforgiving grip on her heart.   
A huff escaped her red lips. Although her blood cells had started to absorb the energy, there was still a chance, that the second dose would kill her. A chance of 83.7 percent, to be precise.   
Not exactly the odds Irene liked to operate under, but she just couldn’t stop. She _couldn’t_. This was…

This was _huge_.

_  
_

A sharp knock on her door pulled her from her musings. 

“ _Herein_ (Come in)”, she said and turned to see who disturbed her.   
The door opened and the dirty, battered appearance of one Sergeant Barnes entered the sanctuary of her examination room. Irene’s brows furrowed, confused at the prospect of Barnes still sticking to manners, even though he was a POW and treated less than humane. 

When Irene simply stared at him with an eyebrow lifted in a silent question, Barnes shot her a surprisingly sheepish smile.   
“They…uh…”, he started and fidgeted with the fringed seam of his shirt, before he stubbornly lifted his chin. “They told me to come here.” He looked up from underneath his greasy hair, his face smeared with machine oil and his piercing blue eyes boring into Irene’s.   
It was _adorable_.

Irene swallowed thickly and got up from her chair, a mask of indifference on her face to hide her foul mood. It somehow felt wrong to be anything but polite to him, after he had shown her such good manners. And maybe the adorable puppy eyes had something to do with it, too.  
“Sit”, she simply said and pointed at the examination table. Her eyes darted to the wound she had sutured some days ago, while Barnes moved towards the table to sit down. He was careful how he moved, his muscles obviously sore and his body aching.   
But he seemed to be more healthy in general, which wasn’t all too hard considering he had suffered pneumonia and a concussion the last time she had seen him.

A grim smile flitted over Irene’s lips, as she turned and washed her hands. It had been a good call to not only stop Lohmer, but to also give Barnes some penicillin once she had had him within her reach without looking suspicious.   
She had informed Zola of it, of course, but explained it in a way, that she wanted Barnes as a possible test subject and would be rather unimpressed, if he died due to something she could have prevented. Zola, too distracted from the three opened buttons of her blouse showing off some cleavage, had agreed without really listening to what she said. 

_  
_

Irene took the tray, that held her set of instruments and turned towards Barnes.   
He followed her every move with his eyes, his face carefully blank, but the blue of his eyes as intense as ever. Irene felt her skin crawl at being so closely scrutinised.   
She put the tray down on the table next to Barnes and stepped right in front of him. 

“I’ll check how your wound has healed and then start removing the stitches”, Irene explained in a low, professional tone. She was close to him, there was no need to talk loudly. Without waiting for his consent, she took his chin in her left hand.   
He flinched at her touch. Irene pulled her red lips into a displeased grimace. She wasn’t going to hurt him. 

Her right hand came up to gently touch the skin around his wound and feel if it was warm or swollen. She wouldn’t be able to remove the stitches, if the wound was infected.  
His skin was smooth and she felt him suppress a shiver, as her fingertips tenderly moved over his forehead. 

She held her breath, when she bent just a bit closer in order to get a better look at the stitches. Her face intimately close to his.   
It reminded her of the time she had sutured the wound.  
But back then, she had felt in control, her hands had been sure and her heart beat calm. He had been unconscious after all.   
This time, although the situation was the same, everything felt strangely different. She tried not to linger on the thought.

Irene took a small step forward to keep her balance easier, as she checked the angry, red skin on his forehead.   
She hadn’t looked where she placed her foot.   
Her leg skimmed his knee and for a moment, there was the fleeting feeling of warmth seeping through fabric. 

She froze.  
Her eyes widened slightly, her mask slipped and when she averted her gaze just a bit, her eyes were captured by the intense stare of bright blue. 

For the short eternity of a second, nothing happened. They just stared at each other, both surprised by the unexpected contact and the effect it had on them.   
Then a twinkle entered Barnes’ eyes and wrinkles appeared around them, as his lips pulled into a slow, lopsided smirk.   
Irene’s heart involuntarily skipped a beat, her jaw clenched and her lips thinned as she pressed them tightly together. She was desperately trying to keep the blush from her cheeks. Honestly, how those blue eyes could light up…it should be forbidden. This man was unbelievable. 

Here he was, sitting on the examination table in a facility in which he was to be laboured until he quite literally dropped dead, getting examined after a guard had beat him into a bloody pulp, and he started _flirting_ with her. 

She wanted to laugh at his silly antics. This was _not_ what one was supposed to do when being a prisoner. 

Instead, Irene leaned in just a tad bit closer to examine the stitches, her breath fanning over his skin, as she opened her mouth slightly. She felt him tense, but it didn’t feel as if it was in a bad way. Suddenly the air felt too thick to breath easily. Irene swallowed.  
Then she abruptly leaned away and brought the scissors to his face. His eyes widened slightly at the gleaming metal and the small, almost invisible smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

Her whole being vibrated and her skin itched, as she easily removed the stitches.   
Barnes was motionless throughout the whole process, as if he was frozen in his place, too scared to move and destroy whatever happened in this moment. 

There was a tenseness in their muscles, that had nothing to do with her being HYDRA and him a POW. 

_Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap._

The last stitch removed, Irene could have stepped away. She could have brought some much needed distance between them.   
Her right hand, however, put the scissors down onto the tray and then lifted up again. 

She hesitated for a second, her eyes steely and stubbornly fixed on anything but his eyes. 

Then she moved her hand. Slowly. Cautiously. Until the tips of her fingers connected with the split skin of his lips.   
This time, she could see the shiver than ran through his body without a doubt. 

She gently moved her fingers over his chapped lower lip, careful not to hurt him. Examining the damage.

Her own lips parted slightly and her tongue darted out to wet them. 

Barnes was still as a statue, as he let her touch him. She was certain, that he held his breath. The playfulness was gone, Irene knew that without looking into his eyes.   
Something had shifted in the air. 

Without any warning, she broke out of her reverie.   
Abruptly, as if someone had yelled into her ear. Her eyes lost their silent wonder and froze over with the harshness of a winter’s storm. Her lips were immediately pressed tightly together in an attempt to hide her confusion about what had just happened.  
She took two steps away suddenly, her body rigid and her muscles tense with something else entirely now. 

“There’s nothing stopping you from reaching your quota now”, she said and her voice sounded sharper than necessary, even to herself. She wanted to flinch.   
Barnes just stared at her, the confusion she felt mirrored openly in his bright eyes. An avalanche of contradicting emotions crashed through Irene and the only thing that kept her sane, was the training she had received.   
A spy was efficient.  
A spy was without remorse.  
A spy had no business with feelings. 

“The door’s there”, she informed Barnes waspishly, as he didn’t move.   
For a second longer, he stared at her, searched for something in her expression, that he wouldn’t find. Her mask was perfect again. His face closed off and the smirk crawling onto his lips looked just a tad bit sardonic.   
He stood from the examination table and then he smiled _that_ lopsided smile at her.

He had the audacity to smirk at her in a come-and-get-me kinda way, that made Irene’s breath hitch.   
Then he winked — he _winked!_ — and left the room. 

_  
_

Irene stared at the closed door for a moment, her whole body frozen as if she stood in the eye of a hurricane. Indignation burnt in her veins for a mere blink of an eye, before it was replaced with something else. She felt…light and…and carefree.   
The feeling reminded her of long nights in London pubs, with live music and a few too many ales. Of flirtatious smiles and slow dances. Of skin on skin and another life entirely.

A laughter bubbled up in her chest. Her lips itched to stretch into a genuine, honest smile. 

And then for a second, for only a second, in the sanctuary of her examination room, she let go of the tension and the burden and the mask.   
She let the smile slip completely onto her face and the laughter tumble over her red lips. 

This man was _unbelievable_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya fellas,
> 
> hope you're doing fine? After this chapter?   
> I really hope I could make you guys feel the pressure from Schmidt and the anxiety getting that vial caused for Irene?  
> And I also hope, that I could make it up to you by giving Bucky and Irene the very first real moment! Yay?! Did you like it?  
> I am no chemist, so I have no idea, if LSD actually works in any way to improve the Super Soldier Serum. What I do know is, that there have been military-led experiments on humans with LSD. So I took my inspiration from that....sorry, if that's not actually correct in any scientific way...
> 
> The next chapter isn't written as of yet, but I got so many ideas and soon I'll again have the time to write excessively.
> 
> As always, because you guys are making my days, a **BIG THANK YOU!** to all the new subscribers and those, who left a kudo. I really, _really_ appreciate that!
> 
>  
> 
> Read ya soon,  
> Murphy


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